

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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Mrs. McCook’s 


Cottage. 




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9 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


OR, THE 


LAGUNA SCHOOL. 


BY ^ 

Mrs. MARGARET HOSMER, 

1 1 1 

AUTHOR OP 

“THE CHINAMAN IN CALIFORNIA,” “THE BACK COURT,” 
“CHILD CAPTIVES,” etc. etc. 




PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 

No. 1334 CHESTNUT STREET. 



COPYRIGHT, 1 879, 

BY THE TRUSTEES OF THE 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION. 


/X - 3 i yy/ 


Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers and Electrotypers , Philada. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 


“The Worst Boy” 5 

CHAPTER II. 

The Finneys 19 

CHAPTER HI. 

James’s Flower... 33 

CHAPTER IV. 

Sarah Crofton’s Fall 49 

CHAPTER V. 

James in Danger 60 

CHAPTER VI. 

James and Chumbo 78 

CHAPTER VII. 

Chumbo’s Hut 95 


3 


4 


CONTENTS . 


CHAPTER VIII. 

PAGE 

The Accusation 110 

CHAPTER IX. 

Surano’s Boat 124 

CHAPTER X. 

The Conspiracy 140 

CHAPTER XI. 

Jenny’s Birthday 156 

CHAPTER XII. 

The End of the Term 166 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Affliction and Help 177 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Chumbo’s Indemnity 195 

CHAPTER XV. 

Jenny’s Rest 204 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Spanish Title 219 


Chumbo’s Hut. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ THE WORST BOY.” 

“Let us not be weary in well-doing, for in due season we 
shall reap if we faint not.” — G al. vi. 9. 

“ fTlHIS is your school-room, Miss Herbert,” 

A said Mr. Weston, the principal, to me 
as he introduced me to the scene of my 
future labors ; and he added, in an under 
tone, looking toward a lad who had just 
cuffed another one at his side, “ There is 
your worst boy.” 

The youth’s flushed face grew redder still, 
and his sullen brow scowled angrily at us 
both. His hearing was keen, and he resent- 
ed the remark with a muttered growl. 

“ There, Batters, none of that !” said Mr. 
Weston sternly; and then turning he said 

5 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


to me, “This boy is evidently inclined to 
give you trouble. If he attempts any non- 
sense, just send him in to my room to be 
settled; will you, please?’’ 

I did not say “ Yes the thought 
struck me that it was not the best thing to 
say, and, following the impulse of my mind, 
I looked at the boy as kindly as I could, 
and replied, “ I am sure he would not give 
me trouble if he knew how anxious I am 
to be his friend. I mean to tell him so, and 
see if I cannot rely on his trying to be the 
best boy in my class, as he is the largest.” 

Batters relaxed his frowning brow a very 
little at this, and seemed to transfer all the 
wrathful feeling to Mr. Weston which he 
had at first been inclined to share with me. 
He made a disagreeable sound without utter- 
ing any words, and shook his head once or 
twice as if in protest against the principal’s 
presence. But Mr. Weston, without paying 
any further attention to him, went on to 
speak to me about the class. So he received 
no further provocation, and consequently 
subsided into a listless stare during the 
rest of the interview. 


THE WORST BOYT 


7 


The Laguna School, as it was called, be- 
cause it was built in the valley near a little 
laguna (lake) inlet from the beautiful San 
Francisco Bay, was one of those institu- 
tions described by the term unclassified , 
and in my room I found scholars varying 
in age from six to sixteen. 

This was unavoidable, owing to the scat- 
tering suburban population around, which 
could not number sufficient scholars to admit 
of the regular division of grammar, inter- 
mediate and primary school. There were 
but two classes, that of the principal and 
my own, but these were divided into a 
dozen grades, from the child in the alphabet 
to the student in geometry. It was conse- 
quently quite laborious to superintend such 
a variety of studies and keep order at the 
same time among so many children of dif- 
ferent ages. 

Mr. Weston had been struggling against 
the difficulties of the position for some 
years. The attendance was too unreliable 
to admit of great advancement in any of 
the pupils, and the contrast in the homes 
and social standing of the parents seemed 


8 


CHUMBO'S HUT 1 


to prevent a unity of feeling in anything 
he attempted by way of improvement. 

Around the laguna were some beautiful 
suburban villas belonging to men of wealth, 
whose sons attended the school, and among 
the sandhills were tule huts, where idle 
Spanish fishermen lounged away the time, 
and sent their dark-faced, mischievous little 
boys to mingle with the children of the 
Irish laborers who worked on the road to 
the Presidio, and were far too ready to drink 
and fight and set a bad example to the 
rising generation. Mr. Weston had, as he 
told me, taken charge of the Laguna School 
with the firm determination of reforming 
all the evils of the neighborhood, and, hav- 
ing brought out the better qualities of the 
youth under his charge, to constitute them 
an active band of home-missionaries to 
counteract the bad habits of their elders. 

He had not succeeded, and felt so dissat- 
isfied with the disheartening result of his 
labors that his manner suffered somewhat 
from the disappointment, and at times he 
was severe and impatient. 

“ I am sorry, Miss Herbert, that I cannot 


“THE WORST BOY.” 


9 


encourage you,” he said, after telling me of 
the barriers in the way of establishing a wise 
rule and good influences. “ I tried to hope 
against hope for a long time, but I was 
forced at last to acknowledge that human 
nature cannot be changed by art, and that 
we must be content to check temporarily 
the progress of evil where we cannot eradi- 
cate it. Every day I take six hours from 
the time that would otherwise be devoted 
to all sorts of mischief, if not crime, and 
hold my class in outward subjection to better 
things. But of course I know that my in- 
fluence is at an end just the moment they 
leave my sight, and that outside the school- 
room any one of my boys might defy me 
if he chose.” 

“ But are they all so very bad ?” I asked, 
hesitating to believe such a discouraging 
account of my future scholars. 

“No, certainly, not all, but by far the 
greater proportion. A short experience 
will prove to you that a bad boy can do 
more mischief than a dozen good ones can 
counteract. That boy Batters of yours, for 
instance, will give you more uneasiness than 


10 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


those three families of nice children — the 
Morleys, the Hunters and the Norrises — 
can give you pleasure. Then those Surano 
and Silvio lads, sons of the Spanish fishers, 
are terribly unmanageable. Miss Gordon, 
your predecessor, used to punish them three 
and four times a day. But they wax their 
hands, and don’t mind the ferule at all.” 

Mr. Weston was a hard worker, and con- 
scientiously devoted to the interests of the 
school, though he had no hope of making it 
a success. It was this labor without encour- 
agement that affected his spirits. He was not 
in good health, either, and I tried to take 
everything into consideration to preserve my 
own hopefulness after he had given me such 
a depressing introduction to my new sphere. 

I found seventy names on my roll-book, 
and not quite forty boys and girls present. 
The absent-marks during the last term showed 
just about the same average, and proved the 
truth of one item of Mr. Weston’s complaint 
—a poor attendance. I looked over the rows 
of desks and benches, and saw that another 
was equally correct. A portion of the pupils 
were neatly dressed and bore evidence of 


THE WORST BOY: 


11 


home care and cultivation ; the rest were in 
various stages of raggedness and dirt, and 
looked as wild and unprepossessing as any 
children I had ever beheld. 

But the behavior did not correspond with 
the exterior of these young people in every in- 
stance. Some of the untidy children seemed 
particularly good, and some of the genteel ones 
were very unruly. None of them were so 
positively degraded as the one Mr. Weston 
had called “ Batters.” He was hopelessly ne- 
glected in appearance, and in face and form 
presented nothing attractive or comely. But 
the spirit of mischief and perversity with 
which he seemed possessed was even more re- 
markable than his want of personal graces, 
and during the first morning of my life at 
the laguna he caused me more discomfort 
and uneasiness than I should have believed 
it possible for one boy to create. 

The first impression I gained from watch- 
ing him secretly for a few moments was, that 
he had made up his mind never to sit still 
himself nor allow any one else to do so if he 
could prevent it. Then it appeared that he 
had an angry feeling against every boy in 


12 


CHUMBO'S HUT 1 


the school, and that, as a general thing, they 
returned it with interest. 

He would drive his elbow into one, put out 
his foot to trip another and snatch a book or 
slate from a third, all in the same moment, 
and apparently without any temptation except 
a desire to make disorder. 

I had rather expected that he would have 
banded himself with the poorer part of the 
scholars against the sons of rich parents, but 
I discovered that he bestowed his kicks and 
cuffs quite impartially, only he seemed to hold 
a particular spite against the Spanish boys. 

Mr. Weston called him “Batters,” but I 
found out that this was a nickname, and one 
that gave him great offence. 

After the noon-recess the principal came 
in to complain of some one of my boys hav- 
ing thrown a stone into his window. 

“ I looked out the moment after,” said he, 
“and I could see no one near but Samuel 
McCook and Batters. So I report them both 
to you, Miss Herbert. The boys know that 
such an act is a breach of school-rules, and 
when you have investigated the matter the 
offender must be punished.” 


“ THE WORST BOY” 


13 


I had been trying to get on with as little 
reproof as possible until I had learned more 
of the natures I had to govern, and the neces- 
sity of examining and detecting an offender 
so soon quite frightened me. 

Mr. Weston went back to his room, and I 
called up the two boys. 

Samuel was a small, lame lad, with truthful 
eyes and a frank, agreeable smile. His face 
prepossessed me in his favor, and I asked 
him to tell me the truth about the matter, 
because I felt that he would not attempt to 
deceive me. 

But, to my surprise, his face grew red and 
he hung back in a manner that did not seem 
cowardly, and yet was anything but open 
and honest, like his face. 

When I insisted on his speaking out he 
colored still more deeply, and said he didn’t 
want to be a tale-bearer — that there were 
other boys there besides Batters and himself. 

“ You stop calling me Batters, will you ?” 
growled the other angrily. “ I told you 
before I would knock your head off if you 
said it again.” 

“ What is your name ?” I asked mildly. 


14 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


“ My name is James Finney, and the boys 
call me Batters because I have to 'fight for 
my rights.” 

“ Well, James, then I ask you to tell me 
about the stone that was thrown into the 
principal’s room.” 

“ I wish it had hit him,” muttered James; 
and this was all the reply I received. 

“ Teacher,” said a little boy on the last row 
of seats, jumping up and holding up his 
hand for permission to speak, “ I know what 
was the matter. Batters shies rocks at boys 
if they throw their balls or shinney stones 
into his garden, and Ned Morley’s ball 
knocked his flowers off ; that is what made 
him want to hit him.” 

“ Where is James’s garden ?” 

The boys laughed, and James’s red face 
flamed with angry color. 

“ It is none of their business,” he growled. 
“They have room enough to play without 
breaking up my things.” 

I looked at Edward Morley, who had not 
said a word, but appeared to become sud- 
denly busied over his studies since the con- 
versation began. 


“THE WORST BOY.” 


15 


“ As far as I understand it, you were play- 
ing ball, Edward/’ said I, “and your ball 
chanced to fall among James Finney’s flow- 
ers and break one of them. This made him 
angry, so that he threw a stone at you which 
chanced to go into Mr. Weston’s window.” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” confessed Edward, rather 
reluctantly ; and he added, “ If he had hit 
me he might have killed me. It was a sharp 
piece of rock he threw.” He evidently 
wanted to lose sight of the provocation and 
magnify James’s offence. 

“ Then you had nothing to do with it, 
Samuel ?” 

“ No, ma’am,” cried the little boy, much 
relieved. 

But I knew by his manner that he had 
seen it all, and I determined to talk to him 
about it by and by. 

I felt I was doing a risky thing when I 
said, “Go back to your seats, boys; I will 
attend to this another time. I want to be- 
come better acquainted with your good qual- 
ities before I find out the wrong things you 
do.” 

They took this merciful settlement of the 


16 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


difficulty in different spirits. The Morley 
boys appeared rather disappointed, and little 
Samuel seemed very glad. As for James 
Finney, he was such a morose sort of fellow 
that no one could trace a pleasant emotion 
on his habitually threatening brow. 

There were plenty of attentive scholars 
who seemed to take an interest in their 
lessons and to desire improvement. There 
were some too who never misbehaved in any 
way. But, as Mr. Weston had just said, the 
noisy, troublesome, lawless few were able to 
keep up such a ferment and create such a 
disturbance that I found at the close of my 
first day at the Laguna School that James 
Finney had given me more annoyance and 
created more trouble for me than I had ever 
had a pupil do before, and that, anxious as I 
felt to avoid the system of reproach and 
complaint under which he had lived hereto- 
fore, I found it difficult to refrain from re- 
lieving my tried mind in that way. 

About a dozen of the forty-four scholars 
present had merited reproof for misconduct, 
but not more than half of that number were 
systematically bad. I had watched them 


THE WORST BOY: 


17 


closely, and saw that besides Batters my 
most difficult subject was a handsome, well- 
dressed youth named Egbert Hyde. His 
father was colonel at the Presidio. In right 
of his military distinction he evidently en- 
joyed some popularity among the other boys, 
who never “ told on him,” but bore his tricks 
very patiently. He was sly and not at all 
frank or honorable in his conduct, as I had 
reason to conclude when I saw him endeavor 
to throw the blame of any unusually loud 
noise his pranks created upon other and less 
popular boys. 

Edward Morley sat at his side, and seemed 
a very particular friend of his, and given to 
imitating his ways, I feared. 

Terry Law was a square-shouldered, thick- 
set lad, with a face that expressed decided 
energy and superior intelligence. He be- 
longed to the laboring classes, but his poor 
clothes were cleaner and better kept than 
most of the boys of his order, and I thought 
for the first hour of our acquaintance that 
he was a lad in whom I should find interest 
and pleasure. But I soon discovered that he 
was a leader of a band, and that he had di- 


18 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


vided his part of the school into a faction 
against the “ aristocrats,” or children of the 
wealthier residents of the Laguna. He and 
two or three of his strongest supporters kept 
up a defensive and sometimes an aggressive 
air toward Egbert Hyde and his associates, 
and Batters and the Spanish boys made gue- 
rilla war on all parties as occasion offered. 

This was the reason of the ill-success of 
the school. I felt I had found out the 
trouble, but I really did not know how to 
overcome it. 

I sat thinking after they were all dismissed, 
and the case seemed a very difficult one. 

Samuel McCook was lingering at the door, 
as if he wished to speak to me. I smiled at 
him encouragingly, and he came forward. 

“ The boys are all gone, and you can see 
Batters’s garden now, Miss Herbert,” he said, 
nodding his head in the direction of the 
playground. 

I had just concluded in my own mind, 
“ Batters seems the hardest to win over ; I 
will try him first ;” and Samuel’s words timed 
well with my thoughts. I rose very readily, 
and went with him to the playground. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE FINNEYS. 

u Let your moderation be known unto all.” — P hil. iv. 6. 

I T was a large, bare space covered with 
rings and hollows, marks of marble- and 
ball-games played energetically by the many 
sets of boys I had observed there that morn- 
ing. In a corner, under the shadow of the 
wall and beside a small gutter or outlet from 
the water-tank, was a little triangular spot 
bordered with pebbles and partly surround- 
ed by bits of dry twigs stuck fencewise in 
the earth. In this compartment were two 
or three weedy-looking plants and a small 
tuft of red daisies. They were abundantly 
watered. Indeed, their sickly appearance 
was due to the excess of moisture and shade, 
but it was evident that their planter took 
great pride in their culture, and I could 

19 


20 


CH UMBO’S HUT. 


scarcely imagine such a boy as Batters being 
fond of flowers. 

“Are you sure this is James Finney’s 
work?” I asked. 

“ Yes, ma’am. His sister Kitty would not 
let him have a garden at home, because they 
keep chickens and turkeys; so he planted 
them here, and the boys knock the sticks 
down with their balls and shinney-clubs, and 
then he fights them.” 

The love of flowers had always seemed to 
me a softening and refining influence, but 
in the case of this perverted lad it appear- 
ed to be the occasion of conflict and dis- 
agreement. 

I felt afraid that the boys purposely tres- 
passed on his flower-plot, and I said so ; but 
Samuel was no talebearer or mischief-maker. 

“A ball will sometimes go the wrong 
way,” he said, “ and when so many boys are 
at play they never stop to think about 
people’s flowers.” 

Without infringing on the good rule my 
little friend had evidently adopted of speak- 
ing evil of no one, I questioned him about 
James’s relations with the other boys, and 


THE FINNEYS. 21 

tried to discover why he seemed to stand 
alone and be at war with every one. 

“ Has the poor lad no friend at all among 
you V ’ 

“ Oh yes ; he likes Frank Blaine.” 

I repeated the name, and tried to remem- 
ber the boy to whom it belonged. But Sam- 
uel said he had not been at school that day. 

“ His father is a sea-captain, and Frank is 
sick most of the time ; so this voyage he 
took Frank down to Mexico, to see if it 
would make him better.” 

“ Is he a large boy ? 

“Not very. Once he went off with Bat- 
ters in a little boat, and they were nearly 
drowned. Ever since then Frank and he 
have been friends, and when he is here the 
boys don’t tease Batters so much.” 

Here were two good points in the character 
of my “ worst boy :” he loved flowers, and 
he was capable of feeling an attachment and 
awakening a friendship in another. I was 
glad to make the discovery, and, finding 
that Samuel McCook’s home lay on the road 
I meant to take, we left the school together, 
talking very pleasantly. 


22 


CHUMBO ’S HUT. 


Though lame, Samuel was exceedingly 
nimble in his movements; the light crutch 
on which he leaned seemed part of himself, 
he used it so readily, and his cheerful young 
face and active form prevented one from call- 
ing his accident an affliction. 

It had happened two years ago, he told me, 
and was owing to a fall from one of the high- 
est trees in the school-yard. 

“ Miss Warren was our teacher then,” he 
said, “and she told us we must not climb the 
branches, because it was dangerous, and also 
that it was wicked to disturb the birds which 
were building nests there. Two other boys 
and I waited after school till she went away. 
Then we scrambled up, and got two pretty 
nests. But I fell as I was trying to come 
down, and the boys were frightened and ran 
off and left me lying there. Chumbo, the 
Indian, heard me cry. — You know Chumbo, 
Miss Herbert, don’t you? He lives in the 
tule hut near the laguna, and comes round 
the playground at night to pick up crumbs 
and bits of the boys’ lunches. — He lifted me 
up and carried me home, and I had to lie in 
bed for months. Miss Warren came to see 


THE FINNEYS. 


23 


me, and never scolded me once ; so did Mr. 
Harris, the minister ; and everybody was so 
kind to me that I can never forget it. The 
doctors say I will outgrow the hurt, but I 
am so used to it that I do not mind it much 
now.” 

We had reached the rising ground that 
bounded the valley of the laguna, and came 
in sight of a miserable shanty or two with 
scattering sheds around them. A good 
many dirty children were building mud 
forts at the side of the road, and a variety 
of animals were straying around the prem- 
ises. 

“ That is Finney’s house,” said my young 
companion, “and Billy McBride lives in 
the other one.” 

Just as I learned this I saw a very untidy 
woman come to the door and begin scream- 
ing at the children, more in general severity 
than any particular anger. 

“ What do you mean, you dirty, lazy, idle 
young villains,” she cried, “digging and 
slopping in the dirt from morning till night, 
till my arms ache trying to wash your 
clothes? If you don’t leave that mud and 


24 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


mess this minute, I will break every bone 
in your bodies.” 

“That is Mrs. Finney,” said Samuel in 
an under-tone; and she advanced to greet 
me, having scattered the fort-builders to the 
right and left. 

“This is the new teacher, isn’t it?” she 
said with what she meant for a pleasant 
manner. “I am glad to see you, ma’am, 
and I hope you will do better for us than 
the ones we had before. There’s my Jim; 
he has been going to the Laguna School for 
over five years, and he knows just nothing at 
all this minute. To be sure, he is too bad 
to learn anything ; it seems as if he is bent 
on evil and will learn nothing else ; but 
that is not our fault. I am sure his father 
has done his best, and so have I. We have 
whipped him every day of his life, till we 
couldn’t stand over him any longer, and it 
has done him no good. He has had more 
thrashings than any boy of his age you can 
name, and yet he is so troublesome and 
vicious that we do not know what to do 
with him.” 

As she spoke James appeared in the side- 


THE FINNEYS. 


25 


yard chasing some turkeys, and before I 
had time to answer her she caught up a 
stick and rushed after him, crying out as 
she went, 

“ Oh, you vagabond ! I will take your 
very life if you hurt one of my turkeys!” 

Kitty Finney now came forward ; she 
was a well-grown girl of fourteen or fifteen, 
with a rather good face, but a bold, forward 
manner. 

She had been engaged in wiping dishes, 
for she held a plate and cloth in her hand 
still, and seemed divided between anger and 
amusement on the subject of the chase her 
brother and mother were having. 

“ If you are our Jim’s teacher, I pity 
you,” she said, addressing me; “he is 
enough to set any one crazy. Whenever 
I say a word to him he starts off and chases 
our turkeys, because father lets me have all 
the money I can get by selling the young 
ones. Look at him now. He has jumped 
over the wall, and stands dancing and yell- 
ing at mother where he knows she cannot 
reach him. Ha, ha, ha! Oh, he is smart 
enough when he wants to be, I tell you!” 


26 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


“Are you his only sister?” I asked. 

“No, indeed. There are Nelly and Jane 
playing in the mud there ; and the two boys 
fighting with that old goat that has the kid 
are my brothers too. We had a baby, but 
he got scalded in the suds when mother 
took in washing, so he died.” 

“You have a father living?” I ventured 
to ask, for I remembered Mrs. Finney’s 
allusion to him in the matter of discipline, 
and I wondered what could be the occupa- 
tion of the head of such a family. 

“ Of course we have,” said Kitty, sharply 
and with an air of some resentment. “ I 
suppose you think because we are so poorly 
situated that we haven’t even got relations. 
But my pa knows what he is about. He 
has a title to all this property round here, 
and when he can get enough money to fee 
the lawyers he is going to have these stuck- 
up quality, that turn their noses up at us 
now, marched off the place. The Morleys 
and the Harrises live on ground my father 
can claim as soon as he is able to go to law 
about it. Then we will see who will call us 
‘the poor Finneys.’” 


THE FINNEYS. 


27 


She tossed her head and began polishing 
the plate which she held in her hand. Her 
foolish words and affected tone did not prej- 
udice me against her. I thought I could see 
in the knot of soiled red ribbon she had 
stuck in the side of her hair, and the neck- 
lace of cheap blue beads she wore round her 
neck, that she was fond of showy things, and 
wanted to be rich so as to gratify her gay 
tastes. Though she was much better-look- 
ing than her brother, there was a strong 
likeness between them, and the peculiarly 
resentful expression in his eyes was repeated 
in hers, as if they both agreed in being an- 
gry and bitter against those whom they con- 
sidered better off than themselves. 

Mrs. Finney, finding she could not reach 
her disrespectful son, flung the stick at him, 
and, not being able to hit him with it, fol- 
lowed it with a few lumps of clay, which 
were equally unsuccessful. Then she came 
back with a flushed and excited face to ap- 
peal to me if he was not enough to drive 
her distracted and bring her to the grave in 
sorrow. 

“ I am glad you saw how we are treated 


28 


OHUMBO’S HUT. 


by him, and how hard we try to make him 
act right/’ she said. “ Some of the teachers 
have come here complaining to us, as if we 
were not more to be pitied than they were ! 
But you can see for yourself what a trial he 
is to us.” 

I said I was very sorry, but perhaps he 
would do better if they changed the style 
of managing him, and suggested that it was 
possible to scold and beat a boy too much. 

She seemed greatly surprised at such an 
idea, and asked what I would do with him 
if I didn’t beat him. 

“ Could you not try persuasion and kind- 
ness?” I hinted, but she laughed outright 
at the suggestion. 

“ When it takes us all, fighting him with 
might and main, to keep him fit to live with, 
what would he be if we all let him alone to 
take his own way ?” she exclaimed. 

I was afraid I could not explain my mean- 
ing clearly just then, for Mrs. Finney was in 
no mood to understand the law of love ; so I 
said “ Good-evening,” and went away. 

Samuel McCook had left me when he saw 
James’s mother appear. He seemed rather 


THE FINNEYS . 


29 


anxious to avoid an interview with the fam- 
ily ; and I understood the reason for it when 
I heard Kitty call after him, “ Don’t stay 
’round our place, Sam McCook. You might 
get some dust on your clothes, and then your 
mother would have to sit up all night to 
brush them clean.” 

The pretty cottage in which he lived stood 
just on the other side of the wild and disor- 
dered space in which the Finneys’ and the 
McBrides’ shanties were, and I never saw a 
neater, prettier spot than the lovely little 
garden that surrounded it. Mrs. McCook 
was busily trimming her plants, and her son 
had laid away his satchel and was helping 
her as I came up. She had just reached a 
beautiful cluster of fuchsias down by the 
gate, and discovered that the handsomest 
was torn up by the roots. 

“ Oh, Sammy,” she cried, “ your beautiful 
variegated fuchsia is ruined!” 

Samuel was just about to introduce me to 
his mother when she, unconscious of my 
presence at her gate, imparted this sad intel- 
ligence. His face showed in a moment how 
keenly he felt the loss of his favorite flower, 


30 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


but he called to me to please to stop, and 
opened the gate: 

“ Mother, this is our new teacher, Miss 
Herbert, and I wanted her to see our pretty- 
flowers; but the prettiest of all was this 
splendid fuchsia, that is all torn up.” 

Mrs. McCook was a widow, a neat, pleas- 
ant-faced person, with a cheerful manner and 
a sweet voice. After saying a word or two 
to me about the school and inviting me to 
walk in, she turned consolingly to her boy. 

“ I am so sorry, Sammy!” she said ; “ and 
1 think it was my fault, for I made James 
Finney angry this morning by scolding him 
for driving their chickens into our garden. 
He said he did not do it, and I told him you 
had seen him at it often. Then he called 
you a telltale, and said he would soon make 
you sorry for talking against him. Just as I 
came out, about a quarter of an hour ago, I 
found him hanging over the paling at the 
side where your fuchsia was. When he saw 
me he jumped down and ran off, hooting and 
yelling, as he does after any particularly an- 
noying bit of mischief he commits.” 

“Oh, how mean!” said the poor fellow, 


THE FINNEYS. 


31 


half inclined to cry as he bent over his 
ruined flower. 

“ Never mind, Sammy dear,” said his 
mother cheeringly. “ There is one exactly 
like it in a pot in the Frenchman’s nursery ; 
I will buy it for you to-morrow. Do not say 
a word of reproach to James; it will only 
make bad worse.” 

She gave Samuel her scissors, and, adjust- 
ing her garden-hat, stepped out into the road 
with me, saying that she would walk to the 
florist’s corner, from which she could show 
me a path that would shorten my walk to 
the city. 

As we went on she said, “ I suppose you 
know something of James Finney, or, as the 
neighbors call him, 4 Batters ’ ? Every one 
looks on him as the pest and terror of the 
Laguna, and I really dread to have him take 
a spite against Sammy, for I do not believe 
he would stop at any act, however bold or 
wicked. It is a great relief to me to know 
that his anger against him took such a simple 
form as the destruction of his flower ; and I 
shall feel very uncomfortable until I have 
my boy’s promise not to reproach him with 


32 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


it, lest he does him a much more serious 
injury.” 

“ Is he then so very lawless and revenge- 
ful?” I asked, feeling quite alarmed at the 
increasing developments concerning Batters’s 
evil ways. 

“ I may do him injustice,” said Mrs. 
McCook — “and Sammy, who is a kind- 
hearted child, tender and forgiving to every- 
body, says that I do — but I think him the 
most daring and relentless young savage I 
ever saw. If Mr. Finney could be persuaded 
to send him to sea on a whaler, it would be a 
wonderful relief to the neighborhood.” 

We had reached the florist’s corner; Mrs. 
McCook showed me the short cut through 
a little ravine between the sandhills, and I 
bade her good-afternoon and hurried home- 
ward after my first day at the Laguna School, 
feeling rather doubtful of my future success 
unless I could conquer the “ worst boy,” and 
deeply impressed with the difficulty of such 
an effort. 


CHAPTER III. 

JAMES’S FLOWER. 

“Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one 
another.” — E ph. iv. 32. 

W HEN I passed the Finneys’ corner next 
morning the turkeys were strutting 
peacefully around the untidy yard, and 
James, the disturber of the family peace, 
was nowhere in sight. 

William McBride was starting to school 
with his satchel over his shoulder and a new 
ball in his hand. He did not see me, but 
ran off with an alacrity that had more refer- 
ence to the playground than to study. 

I did not blame the boys for being fond of 
amusement. The school-yard was particularly 
well suited to games of all kinds, and very at- 
tractive to such lads as William, whose own 
playground at home offered few inducements. 
I was wondering within myself as to whether 
a teacher situated as I was had not better 


3 


33 


34 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


become interested in the play-hours and 
home-pursuits of her pupils if she meant to 
establish a permanent influence over them, 
when I was overtaken by a most peculiar 
and rather intimidating figure. 

It was a short man with a red skin and 
long black hair. His features were flat and 
his expression stupid, except when he was 
roused to notice anything. Across his fore- 
head and down his cheeks he wore streaks 
of black and red paint, which gave him a 
ferocious appearance. Besides some tattered 
remnants of American clothing he had a red 
blanket, with his head thrust through a hole 
in the middle, and two or three hats, stuck 
on top of one another, on his head. The 
uppermost one had a great variety of feathers 
placed in the band, that nodded and waved 
in a ridiculous manner as he walked. In his 
hand he carried a long straight stick, with 
which he poked the ground. 

He grunted at me in a queer way, and 
stood still, regarding me with a look of cu- 
riosity that gave animation to his dull face. 

“ Me good Indian,” he said with a series 
of grunts. “ Where you come from ?” 


JAMES’S FLOWER 


35 


I pointed to the school-house, which we 
were approaching, and told him I was the 
teacher. 

“ Bad boys,” he said, shaking his head 
energetically—' “ all bad boys.” 

I had no doubt that they had teased and 
troubled him, and was equally sure that they 
were much to blame for doing so. I told 
him this, but said I did not believe they were 
all bad. 

“ No,” said the Indian, showing his white 
teeth in a broad smile ; “ Sam good boy ; me 
like Sam. Sam give me this.” 

He lifted his blanket and displayed a 
string of large glass beads suspended from 
his neck, which he seemed to consider a 
great treasure. 

“ Do you like no other boy except Sam ?” 
I asked. 

“ Me like Batters,” he answered very 
unexpectedly ; “ he good boy too — very 

good.” 

I could scarcely account for this tribute 
to James’s character; I should have sup- 
posed him to be among the most troublesome 
of old Ch umbo’s enemies. But the Indian 


36 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


caught up some clay and pebbles, and, 
throwing them into the air, flourished his 
stick around, and gave me to understand 
that Batters defended him in this manner 
from the assaults of the other boys, and 
drove them off when they attacked him. 
He then produced two large shells that he 
had been polishing, and entrusted them to 
me as presents to his favorites. He showed 
me that they came from the ocean-beach by 
pointing over the hills toward the seashore ; 
and after a good deal of mumbling that I 
could not understand went by a side-path 
over to the shore of the laguna, where his 
hut stood. 

When I entered the playground the boys 
were shouting and rushing about, each in- 
tent on his game. Seeing that they paid no 
attention to me, but continued their sports 
noisily, I stopped to observe their different 
ways. 

It was, as I had thought the day before, 
a struggle between factions that injured the 
order of our school. Egbert Hyde and 
Edward Morley rallied round them the 
arger and better-looking class of boys, 


JAMES’S FLOWER. 


37 


Terence Law headed the poorer party, while 
the Spanish boys and James Finney depre- 
dated on either side in turn, and kept up a 
perfect turmoil all through the games. 

James had evidently just arrived on the 
ground, and as he passed up the yard he 
used his feet to kick every boy’s ball he 
could reach, and in this way created all the 
anger and trouble possible. 

I was directly behind him, and saw that 
he went at once to his little garden-plot 
near the tank to discover and punish any 
encroachment. He stood still, and some- 
thing in his attitude bespoke astonishment 
not unmixed with pleasure. 

Coming close to his side, I discovered its 
meaning. A beautiful scarlet fuchsia with 
white and purple petals was growing in its 
midst, with a pretty framework for it to 
lean against. 

“ Who put that there?” said James, seem- 
ing to speak to himself rather than address 
the other boys. Then he said, “ It is beau- 
tiful, and I will take care of it too. I would 
like to see any one dare to touch it, so I 
would.” 


38 


CII UMBO’S HUT. 


He looked around, breathing defiance, and 
yet he was both surprised and pleased. He 
had never learned to express his feelings 
pleasantly, and anger at the possibility of 
interference came more readily than grati- 
tude for the unexpected present. 

When I had entered the school-room and 
laid aside my hat and shawl I went to the 
window, and saw James Finney, unconscious 
of anything around him, stooping admiring- 
ly over his new flower, while the balls were 
bouncing over his head and the boys were 
jostling against him. 

I was more touched by this little incident 
than I could easily account for. It involved 
a higher, holier principle than I had seen 
displayed in any school-discipline I had 
studied. This practical return of good for 
evil opened a new train of thought to my 
mind, and mechanically I turned over the 
leaves of the New Testament that lay on 
the desk at my side, while the thought 
flashed upon me, “This book, that teaches 
so much, may guide me in the sincere and 
earnest desire of my heart to do my duty 
and improve these dear children.” 


JAMES’S FLO WEB. 


39 


Involuntarily my heart lifted itself in 
fervent prayer, and I besought divine help 
in the task that till that moment had seemed 
one in which perseverance and firm disci- 
pline alone were necessary. 

It might have been fancy on my part, 
but the play progressed outside with much 
less turmoil than on the day before ; and 
when I rang the bell the boys came in 
without tumbling over each other; which 
was owing to James Finney’s remaining 
till the last, in place of driving ahead and 
thrusting all the rest forward. 

Terry Law was breathless and good-hu- 
mored ; he came in followed by his body- 
guard of adherents, all equally cheerful. 
But Juan Surano ran before one of them 
in his effort to reach his seat in time to pre- 
vent Jose Silvio from seizing it, and there- 
by caused a momentary breach in the good 
order. Billy McBride, who was the boy in 
front, seized him by the arm and pushed 
him over into an empty seat. 

“ William McBride, please go back and 
help Juan to get up again,” I said ; but, as I 
expected, he stood still and refused to obey. 


40 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


He had been used to sharp words, and the 
action of the ferule by way of emphasis ; for 
when I came toward him I saw him quail 
and throw up his arm, as if in expectation 
of a blow. I only laid my hand on his 
shoulder gently and said as kindly as I 
could, “ Then I will help him up, and show 
you how much easier it is to be polite to 
each other than rude and cross.” 

I raised Juan with one hand, while I still 
held Billy with the other. 

“ He was pushing me,” muttered Billy ; 
and Juan, who was sniffling with all his 
might, wailed out, “ He knocked me down.” 

“ Which was the worse thing to do, 
James?” I asked, for I saw the boy watch- 
ing me with curious eyes. 

He answered more readily than I had 
expected : “ Terry Law’s boys drive ahead 
over everybody, and those Surano boys have 
to stand off just because he has turned all 
the others against them.” 

“Then you think William was wrong to 
hurt him as he did, even if Juan pushed 
against him in the first place ?” 

James did not answer. He kept his head 


JAMES'S FLOWER. 


41 


down, and I saw a look of self-conviction in 
his face, which was more promising to me 
than anything he could have said. 

“ Now, boys, you will not be so thought- 
less again,” I said hopefully. “ Neither of 
you meant to hurt the other, but I want you 
to do more than not mean to do wrong : I 
want you to mean to do right.” 

Samuel McCook came in hastily and 
somewhat out of breath. But, finding that 
he was not late, he broke out into a cheerful 
smile and bade me good-morning. He had 
a little nosegay in his hand, which he gave 
me, saying that he had been helping Mr. 
Fayot, the florist, to pack seeds, and was 
afraid he had overstayed the time his moth- 
er told him to leave for school. 

Little Bessie Parrish came up to the desk 
with something in her hand. 

“ It’s Sammy’s knife,” she said ; “ he 
dropped it when he was climbing over the 
wall early this morning, before the school- 
gate was opened.” 

Her mother was the janitress, and they 
lived in a little cottage at the side of the 
school-house. Samuel’s face flushed. James 


42 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


looked up quickly, and his expression was 
one of mingled shame and perplexity. But 
I saw that his intelligence was quick enough 
to pierce the secret of the lovely flower, for 
his eyes turned from Samuel’s blushing face 
to the garden outside with a look that con- 
nected and revealed it all. 

Not once that day did I have to reprove 
him for an assault, either open or covert, on 
any of the scholars, and I was forced to ac- 
knowledge that he made a great deal of the 
trouble I had experienced the day before, 
because, now that he behaved well, all the 
rest were comparatively quiet. 

At recess I called both him and Samuel 
to my desk. Each of them appeared con- 
fused and uncomfortable at first, but greatly 
relieved when I explained the object of the 
interview : 

“ You both know the Indian that lives by 
the laguna, boys ?” 

“ Oh yes, ma’am,” said Samuel, and James 
nodded, with a trace of suspicion still in his 
face. 

“Well, he met me this morning and gave 
me these two pretty shells to give you ; which 


JAMES'S FLOWER. 


43 


was very kind in one so poor and friendless 
as he seems to be. ,, 

“ Yes indeed,” said Samuel eagerly. 
“ Chumbo is good ; I never knew any one 
so generous as he is, considering how little 
he knows about such things. It was he who 
carried me home when I fell from the tree, 
Miss Herbert.” 

James turned the shell over and over in 
his hand and looked awkward and uncom- 
fortable. He was so little accustomed to be 
conversed with kindly that he really did not 
know how to conduct himself properly. I 
was anxious to make him speak and to learn 
how to gain his confidence, but it was not a 
promising thing to attempt. 

“ How did you become acquainted with 
Chumbo ?” I inquired by way of beginning. 

It was an unfortunate one; James’s face 
grew crimson, his brow fell heavily, and he 
began to scowl. 

“ All the boys chased him as much as I 
did,” he muttered, “ but I get the blame of 
everything.” 

“ He did not blame you ; he said he liked 
you.” 


44 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


His brow became brighter at this, and he 
said something in his mumbling way about 
Chumbo being first-rate and no sneaking 
telltale. 

“ Does he ever behave kindly to the other 
boys, or are you and Samuel especial favor- 
ites ?” I inquired. 

“They all throw stones at him and call 
him names — all but Frank Blaine and Sam 
McCook and myself,” said James in a sud- 
den burst of confidence. “ I used to do it 
too, but he helped Frank and me once, and 
since then I steal our Kitty’s turkey-eggs 
and give them to him.” 

This was a bad way to express gratitude. 
I wanted to tell him so without making him 
regret his unusual communicativeness, but I 
scarcely knew how to do it. 

“ I wonder you do not have chickens and 
turkeys of your own, James ?” I said. 

“ Father will not give me any.” 

“ Did he give Kitty hers ?” 

“Yes, because she does the work before 
she goes to school. But I cannot wash 
dishes and clean up the floor.” 

“ If you would help Mr. Fayot he would 


JAMES’S FLOWER. 


45 


pay you something/’ said Samuel eagerly. 
“ He gave me a beautiful plant for packing 
seeds for him.” 

The fear of having said too much re- 
strained Samuel from going on further, but 
I saw that James was pleased with the idea. 

“ I would like to work among splendid 
flowers like his,” said he, “ but that old 
Frenchman is down on me.” 

“ Why ?” I asked, watching his face 
closely. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Yes, I do, too, for 
they say I broke his windows when I was 
throwing stones at McBrides’ goats.” 

He began in a careless tone, and ended 
with a more serious one, being apparently 
governed by a sudden determination to tell 
the truth, though he felt ashamed of it. 

“Were you angry with the goats, James?” 

“ No, but I was mad enough at Bill Mc- 
Bride for letting them eat up my flowers.” 

“ I am glad you love flowers,” said I. 
“ They are beautiful things, and God made 
them for our delight and pleasure. But he 
made goats too, and they can feel pain, poor 
things !” 


46 


CHUMBO'S HUT 


“ I don’t mean to stone them any more,” 
said James doggedly ; and I felt very much 
encouraged even by this ungracious promise. 
I saw that he was restive and anxious to 
get away, so I did not detain him longer. 

He ran out directly to his flowers, and 
began constructing a higher fence to protect 
his fuchsia. 

That evening I stopped at the green- 
house, and after buying a little pot of hearts- 
ease and some mignonette for James’s gar- 
den, I asked Mr. Fayot if he knew the boy, 
and tried to interest him in an effort for his 
reformation. 

The florist shook his head and looked 
very hopeless. He pointed to a row of 
broken bottles stuck on the top of the wall 
that overlooked the road, and gave me to 
understand that it was chiefly on account 
of “ze Batter boy,” as he called him, that 
he was obliged thus to protect his premises 
from invasion. 

Some daisies and other plants had been 
stolen from the hotbed when Mr. Fayot’s 
attention was occupied in the green-house, 
and his son J ulius, who was one of my 


JAMES’S FLOWER. 


47 


scholars, had seen “James make off with 
them,” he said. As for taking him into 
his employ, it was not to be thought of ; he 
would steal and destroy more than the wages 
of a dozen boys, Mr. Fayot declared. 

I was very sorry, for the florist needed 
a boy’s help and was willing to pay for it. 
To get James employment out of school- 
hours, and to waken his sense of honor 
and love of industry for the sake of the 
honest independence it would give him, 
were starting-points in the right way, I 
thought, and I felt deeply disappointed at 
failing in this effort. 

As I came away, rather disconsolately, I 
met Samuel and James together; they were 
just starting in the short-cut over the sand- 
hills toward the laguna. James carried 
two blue gull-eggs in his hand, and his 
companion had a yellow squash, of which 
he said the Indian was very fond. 

“James and I are going to Chumbo’s,” 
said Samuel. 

“ His mother gave me these eggs,” James 
said, holding them up with a look of ex- 
treme gratification. “ Ckumbo will be glad 


48 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


enough to get them ; he likes them best of 
all food, but he’s too lazy to go over to 
Saucelito to find them.” 

I nodded and smiled approvingly on this 
mission. It seemed as if the boy was doing 
for the victim of his former enmity and 
persecution all I desired to accomplish, but 
failed to see the means of performing. 
Already the evil scowl that had seemed 
habitual to his face was giving way to 
an expression of interest and animation. It 
mattered little whose efforts should prove 
successful if the boy only improved. I 
went on my way with a lightened heart, 
and felt quite hopeful. 


CHAPTER IV. 

SARAH CROFTON’S FALL, 

“Who can understand his errors?” — Ps. xix. 12. 

E GBERT HYDE had a little sister named 
Effie, a sweet-faced child, who was so 
amiable as to be rather a martyr to the admi- 
ration of the other girls. Her hair was long 
and golden and fell in beautiful ringlets over 
her neck and shoulders, descending nearly to 
her waist ; and to curl these fair locks seemed 
a perfect passion with all the children near 
her. 

One Sarah Crofton in particular, a good- 
natured child, but a great busybody, could 
not keep her hands off Effie’s hair, but was 
constantly winding the long tresses round 
her fingers, until poor Effie would wink and 
grimace under the pain of the • operation. 
Sarah Crofton was also sometimes given to 
telling tales and making mischief ; and this 

4 49 


50 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


occupied her so much that I was not sur- 
prised to hear she had remained stationary 
in her class for nearly two years. 

Yet she was not an ill-meaning girl, and 
her dullness was not owing to want of intelli- 
gence. She could learn readily, but seemed 
more interested in the gossip of the school 
and neighborhood than in her studies. 

During my first week at the Laguna School 
her hand was constantly going up in token 
of her haying something to communicate. 
But it generally developed into a breathless 
ejaculation of “ Oh, teacher, Jenny Ware 
says that her mother is coming to complain 
of Jim Finney ; he has broken her paling 
down;” or, “ Oh, teacher, Colonel Hyde is 
going to punish Batters for frightening 
Egbert’s colt. He can put him in prison, 
Dicky Law says.” So I determined to allow 
her signals to pass unnoticed. 

Since the day that Samuel and James 
visited Chumbo together I had observed, 
with increasing pleasure, the peaceful and 
even frieridly understanding existing between 
the two boys. I had instituted a series of 
prizes as encouragement for the different 


SARAH CROFTON’S FALL. 


51 


classes to study. Terence Law proved to be 
a very ambitious boy, anxious to excel in all 
lie undertook, and he became so much en- 
gaged in bis lessons that he and Egbert did 
not quarrel openly for several days. Mr. 
Weston congratulated me on the improved 
appearance and order of the school, and I 
began to feel more faith in my old plan of 
government, when one day, at recess, a wail- 
ing became audible outside, which swelled as 
it drew near into hysterical screaming, and 
Sarah Crofton was borne in, bleeding and 
prostrate, in the arms of her companions. 

“ What is the matter ?” I cried in alarm, 
and a half dozen answered at once to the 
effect that James Finney was the cause of 
the dreadful affair. 

After some difficulty I arrived at a clear 
and simple statement of facts. There was a 
large seesaw erected at the upper end of the 
playground, where the girls’ yard was divided 
by a high fence from the boys’. Sarah 
Crofton had seated herself on one end of 
this to enjoy a ride, inviting Jane Ware to 
occupy the other. Their weight was about 
equal, and they vibrated up and down very 


52 


CHUMBO’S HJJT. 


nicely until James Finney, who had climbed 
the fence — an act in itself a breach of the 
rules — screamed out to Jane Ware, just at 
the moment when Sarah was up in the air 
at the greatest height of the board, “ Jump 
off, Jenny, jump off! it is going to break.” 

His loud scream terrified the girl, who 
instantly tumbled off, letting the other end 
come down with a violent jerk that threw 
poor Sarah over a tree-stump and bruised 
and cut her quite seriously. 

When the bell was rung and the scholars 
came in, James was missing, nor did he re- 
turn that day. 

Sarah was taken home in a chair by two 
of Mr. Weston’s boys. After dismissing 
school in the afternoon I went to see her. 

I found her mother very much excited, 
and wrathful against my “ worst boy.” 

“ W T hy is such a wicked creature allowed 
to stay in the school with innocent chil- 
dren ?” she inquired ; “ their very lives are 
not safe while he is around.” 

I did not attempt to defend his actions, 
but I tried to moderate her anger. I told 
her he had been treated with such rigor and 


SARAH CROFTON’S FALL. 


53 


bitterness on all sides that retaliation had 
become his only defence; that he was not 
good or wise enough to control his revenge- 
ful passions ; and that it was wrong to taunt 
or provoke such a boy. 

“ Sarah never put a straw in his way in 
her life,” exclaimed Mrs. Crofton. “ She is 
a harmless, kind-hearted child, with whom 
no one can be angry.” 

“ No,” interrupted Sarah, whimpering, “ I 
never did a thing to Batters in my life, and 
he is always abusing me for nothing. One 
day he made me fall down Blaines’ steps, 
just because I rang the bell to tell them he 
was climbing over their wall to look in at 
Frank’s window when he was sick. He 
hollered ‘ Boo !’ and ran at me, so that I was 
frightened and fell down.” 

“ Hid you do or say anything to worry 
him yesterday or to-day?” I asked. 

“ No, indeed, teacher — not a single earthly 
thing. I only showed Egbert Hyde and the 
boys where he had hid the boards and sticks 
he was whittling to make Chumbo a chair. 
I did not know they would make a bonfire 
of them last night.” 


54 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


I glanced at Mrs. Crofton, but saw no con- 
sciousness of her daughter’s meddlesome 
habits reflected in her face. 

“ No, indeed,” she said soothingly ; “ how 
could you know, poor child ? But never 
mind ; Miss Herbert will turn him out of 
school now, I hope, and that will be one 
blessing.” 

“ But, Mrs. Crofton,” I expostulated, “ sup- 
posing that I had the authority to do so, my 
turning him out of school would not pre- 
vent his being troublesome and mischievous ; 
he cannot be turned out of the neighborhood.” 

“That is true; I wish he could. But 
when he is out of the school it will prevent 
his making trouble there, and his parents 
will not be able to stand him at home ; so he 
will be sent off to sea, which is what ought 
to have been done with him long ago.” 

I did not agree to this very heartily, and 
just then little Eflie Hyde came in with a 
nosegay for Sarah. She was, as I had ob- 
served from the first, a natural peacemaker ; 
and having presented her flowers and ex- 
pressed her sorrow for poor Sarah’s hurt, she 
began to whisper to her softly. 


SARAH CROFTON'S FALL. 


55 


“ But I will blame him, and he did mean 
it !” cried Sarah angrily. “ He said he would 
pay me when he got so mad at me just for 
telling Mr. Fayot he broke his windows, 
when it was Terry Law who threw the 
stones.” 

“ Jenny Ware says he called to her not to 
jump when he saw he had frightened her. 
He only meant to make you afraid, not to 
hurt you.” 

“ Never mind,” said Sarah ; “ our Henry 
told his mother, and they are going to have 
him beaten with a cowhide. Just think 
of that!” 

“Oh, I hope not,” said the gentle Effie, 
shuddering. “ I am afraid our Egbert wor- 
ries him and helps to make him cross, and 
that makes me always sorry for poor Batters.” 

This conversation caused me to feel un- 
easy. I had been perhaps too sanguine 
about the poor boy, and these warlike prep- 
arations seemed the destruction of all my 
hopes. I took my leave of Mrs. Crofton, 
begging her to consider the circumstances of 
the case, and remember that James Finney 
had always been the object of so much per- 


56 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


secution that it was really a Christian duty 
to try a gentler plan with him. She did not 
acquiesce in this view, I am sorry to say, but 
seemed to think that her daughter’s injuries 
called aloud for vengeance. 

At the opening of the Laguna Valley 
stood a very pretty little church, and at 
its side, with a neat lawn and flower-garden 
in front, the rectory. 

Mr. Harris, the clergyman of St. John’s, 
was an elderly and very kind gentleman. 
His daughter-in-law and two grandchildren 
lived with him, and from the way in which 
they had evidently been guided and in- 
structed at home I argued much for the 
worth and goodness of the family. 

Caroline was a girl of nine, a quiet, 
thoughtful child. But Minnie, a year or 
two older, was a merry chatterbox, whom 
nothing but the best of training could ever 
have reduced to order and discretion. Their 
grandfather had evidently heard from them 
of the school-trouble, and was waiting for me 
now at the gate, with a look of some anxiety 
on his benevolent face. 

“ What is this I hear, Miss Herbert ?” he 


SARAH CROFTON’S FALL. 


57 


inquired. “My grandchildren tell me one 
of their schoolmates was seriously hurt 
through the means of that untoward lad, 
James Finney.” 

I explained as well as I could, and was 
glad to see that he did not condemn my 
“worst boy” unconditionally, but felt a 
deep interest in every excusing circumstance 
that I could suggest. He gave me much 
good advice, without appearing to dictate 
to me. Indeed, it was impossible to listen 
to so true and gentle a Christian without 
learning a lesson from his lips. 

He told me that he had heard so many 
complaints of James Finney, without ever 
seeing the lad, that he was prepared to meet 
a monster. But one night, after having 
been called to see poor Frank Blaine in one 
of his serious attacks of illness, he had left 
the sick boy’s room, and was coming out of 
the side door, when he heard a fall on the 
other side of the garden-wall, and, hurrying 
out, saw a boy scrambling to his feet. It 
was starlight, and the lamp in front of the 
house scarcely threw its light far enough to 
make things very plain or clear ; so he 


58 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


could only see the outline of the boy’s face, 
but he judged by his voice that he had been 
crying. 

“Will he die, sir?” he asked as soon as 
he gained his feet; “will poor Frank have 
to die?” 

Mr. Harris said he could scarcely tell, 
that he hoped and prayed he would recover, 
but that he was in the hands of his loving 
Father, who would do all things well. 

The boy groaned as if in pain, and limped 
away with his head hanging down in appa- 
rent grief. Next day his grandchildren told 
him that the boy Batters, as he was called, 
had sprained his ankle in trying to get over 
somebody’s wall to steal fruit or flowers. 

This unjust report had always remained 
in the clergyman’s mind as a reason for 
merciful conclusions concerning the poor 
lad ; and now that I too argued in his favor 
he felt sure that many of his actions had 
been misconstrued, and greatly encouraged 
me in the hope of his reformation. 

I was detained so long by this conversa- 
tion that when I came to Mrs. Finney’s 
door I found little Effie Hyde had arrived 


SARAH CROFTON’S FALL. 


59 


there before me, and was earnestly repre- 
senting the best side of James’s case to his 
enraged mother. 

“ I would not have cared,” I heard Mrs. 
Finney say as I drew near, “if Jim had 
given one of the Morleys or Harrises a 
whack. They are stuck-up people, and 
think themselves much better than their 
neighbors. But Mrs. Crofton is a nice, 
sociable woman, who will come over for 
a chat or a bit of news any day. Only 
last week she came and told me about the 
McBrides, next door — what they said of 
our Kitty’s new spring suit the day she 
went on the picnic, the mean creatures ! 
Oh, she is a real friendly woman, and I 
will break Jim’s head for daring to touch 
her Sarah. He had better not come home, 
or he will feel his father’s cowhide.” 

Effie began to plead again so much better 
than I could have done that I stole off un- 
observed, but greatly distressed and anxious 
about the erring boy. 


CHAPTER V. 

JAMES IN DANGER. 

“The Lord’s hand is not shortened, that it cannot save.” — 
Isa. lix : 1. 

S AMUEL McCOOK had not been at 
school for two days. A note from his 
mother informed me that his weak limb 
was troubling him. But the morning after 
Sarah Crofton’s fall he appeared in the play- 
ground, and began to water James’s little 
garden. Kitty Finney, who was a pupil in 
Mr. Weston’s room, came in before school 
opened and asked me if I knew where their 
James was, for he had not been home all 
night. I said I did not, but that I hoped 
he would be in school as usual. He did 
not come, however, and when I asked the 
scholars if they had seen him since the fall 
in the playground, they all replied in the 
negative. 

60 


JAMES IN DANGER. 


61 


Samuel was very attentive to his lessons all 
day. Indeed, I must confess that James’s 
absence made a decided improvement in 
the order of the whole school. The Spanish 
boys — who, next to him, were disposed to be 
the most troublesome of my scholars — seemed 
quite awed, and wore a subdued air of ex- 
pectancy; for Egbert Hyde had informed 
them and the rest of the boys that his fa- 
ther was prepared to try, convict and ex- 
ecute James Finney as Sarah Crofton’s 
murderer. 

They all looked rather disappointed when 
I told them that beyond a few scratches, that 
would soon heal, Sarah was all right, and 
would soon be back in school again; and 
Bessie Parrish held up her hand to request 
permission to say, “But, teacher, she has 
three big pieces of sticking-plaster on her 
face, and her nose is swelled.” 

“ Yes, my dear,” I answered, “I know that, 
but she is not injured seriously, I am glad to 
say.” Then I thought it right earnestly to 
entreat them all never to provoke each other 
to anger. I avoided mentioning either James 
or Sarah by name, but I told them how much 


62 


CRUMB O’ S HUT. 


evil could creep in where the Golden Rule 
was forgotten. 

Nothing was heard of James that day. I 
asked Kitty, as I passed her gate, if he had 
returned. 

She shook her head laughing, and re- 
plied, “No, and he had better not. He 
is sure to catch it if he does.” 

Mrs. McCook leaned over her garden- 
paling, and seemed anxious to speak to me 
when I reached her cottage. 

“ Sammy has just come back from Chum- 
bo’s hut, Miss Herbert,” she said. “ He 
asked me to let him go there directly after 
school to see if James had taken refuge with 
the Indian. But he says there is no one 
there, and the place is closed up. Where 
do you suppose they have gone?” 

“ Ho you think they are together, wherever 
they are ?” 

“Yes, because there is no one else who 
would shelter Batters. Frank Blaine and 
Chumbo were his only friends until, a few 
weeks ago, he seemed to become civil to 
Sammy. He is not a fit companion for a 
young boy like my son, but Sammy has a 


JAMES IN DANGER. 


63 


great desire to lielp him along and to be 
friendly with him.” 

“ Which I am very grateful and happy to 
see,” said I ; “for if James had received more 
of such treatment, and less of abuse, I feel 
sure he would never have become the lawless, 
reckless lad he is.” 

“Here comes Minnie Harris, running as 
if she had some urgent news to tell,” said 
Mrs. McCook, looking down the road ; and 
following her gaze I saw the clergyman’s 
granddaughter flying along, with her hat 
falling down her back and her curls blowing 
out behind. 

“ Miss Herbert,” she cried, “ wait a min- 
ute, please ; I want to tell you about Batters. 
What do you think? He' has stolen the 
Suranos’ boat and dragged it down to the 
long pier, and he and Chumbo are gone to 
Saucelito for gulls’ eggs !” 

“ How did you hear all this, Minnie ?” 

“Mamma told me to go to Mrs. Norris’s 
after school and tell her about the Sunday- 
school meeting to-morrow evening, because 
she is going to gather a class of the Sand- 
hill children, and try to help the Laguna 


64 


CHUMBO'S HUT 


School by keeping the scholars out of mis- 
chief on Sunday. I was going along near 
Michael Surano’s boat-shed when Thomas 
Walker ran up and said, ‘ I’ve seen them ! 
I’ve seen them ! Batters has the boat in the 
water near the long pier, and Chum bo is in 
it too. They are going to Saucelito.’ Old 
Michael said awful words, and tore up the 
sand and threw it in the air by handfuls, he 
was so angry. But I ran on till I reached 
the hill near Point Lobos, and there I saw 
them in the boat rowing away from the 
shore.” 

Mrs. McCook’s face turned pale. “The 
Laguna people will not be troubled any more 
by James Fiuney,” she said. “ Every one 
knows that old Surano’s boat is not sea- 
worthy — that he has been afraid to use it 
himself this season, and borrows Silvio’s 
whenever he goes out to fish.” 

“ Does James know anything about boats ?” 
I asked, sharing her alarm. “ His father 
should be told of this immediately.” 

“ I will go in and see Mrs. Finney,” said 
Mrs. McCook with some reluctance, in reply 
to my entreating look. “But I wish you 


JAMES IN DANGER. 


65 


would go with me, Miss Herbert, for I am 
afraid she will only become excited, which 
will do poor James no good, and something 
ought to be done at once.” 

“ I will go and tell grandpa,” cried Minnie. 
“I know he would do anything to save 
James, for he said to-day that if Mrs. Norris 
could persuade him to join the Sunday-school 
class he would feel so happy and thankful 
that he would not know what to do.” 

We went back to the Finneys’, and found 
James’s mother busily sewing at a gay dress 
for Kitty to wear to a party, while Nelly and 
Jane were quarreling in scant wardrobes of 
rags on the front porch. 

She did not seem to be much disturbed 
when we introduced the subject of our visit 
by asking if she had heard anything of 
James. 

“No, indeed, not a word,” she replied. 
“ He is staying away, hoping his bad deeds 
will be forgotten. But he need not flatter 
himself he will escape a thrashing. Come 
when he will, he will get it ; for his father, 
like myself, is determined to do his duty by 
his children. Excuse the looks of things, if 


66 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


you please,” she continued ; “ I have not done 
much work to-day, on account of making 
Kitty’s dress for the ball. It would be too 
bad to disappoint her and the young ladies 
with whom she keeps company, for my 
Kitty has her society, as well as those that 
live in grand houses, and she is as good as 
they are, though they do try to turn up their 
noses at her.” 

Mrs. McCook interrupted this discourse by 
telling Mrs. Finney rather abruptly that 
Minnie Harris had seen her son with the 
Indian Chumbo in the old fishing-boat of 
Michael Surano, bound for Saucelito, and 
that the miserable craft was not safe for an 
hour on the bay. 

At first the motherly feelings of the listener 
seemed rather dormant. She stitched away 
on the frills and puffs of Kitty’s tarletan, and 
said that Jim was a born scamp and the bane 
of her life. At length, however, she seemed 
to wake to the knowledge of his danger, 
and her tone changed to a hysterical scream. 
She asked to have the account repeated to 
her, and when Mrs. McCook related Minnie’s 
story over again, she took to shrieking and 


JAMES IN BANGER. 


67 


called the Indian and Surano some very 
bad names, accusing them of entrapping her 
“ poor, dear boy ” and endangering his life. 
In the excitement of her feelings she flung 
aside Kitty’s gauzy dress, and began wring- 
ing her hands and blaming everybody with 
James’s death, which she received as a fore- 
gone conclusion. 

“ But he is not dead, Mrs. Finney,” said 
her neighbor soothingly. “ He is merely in 
danger, and we came to warn you, so that 
the best means might be taken to save him.” 

But Mrs. Finney was not practical ; she 
walked the floor, calling him her poor mur- 
dered boy, sacrificed to the resentment of a 
pack of teachers and scholars, and driven 
away from his home as if he had been a 
dog. 

“ Let us go to Mr. Harris or Colonel 
Hyde,” said Mrs. McCook in an under-tone 
to me ; and, rising to go out, we met Mr. 
Finney on the porch. He was a much 
better-dressed man than I should have sup- 
posed possible from his surroundings, and 
had an air of pompous authority about him, 
though he received us quite graciously. 


68 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


Mrs. Finney began to rave to him on the 
subject of James’s dangerous situation in Su- 
rano’s old boat, but he quieted her and made 
light of her fears. 

“ Mrs. Finney is inclined to be nervous,” 
he remarked in a lofty tone. “ It is the 
weakness of her sex to anticipate trouble. 
But we all know that boys are miraculous- 
ly preserved through all sorts of danger.” 

He then apologized for their rather limited 
style of living, and explained to us the vast- 
ness of his future possessions, and closed by 
remarking that we found them in their chrys- 
alis state, but that they would be able to do 
us more honor when they came out as butter- 
flies by and by in a fine villa residence. 

Mr. Harris opened the gate before we 
reached it. He had come to offer Mr. Finney 
Colonel Hyde’s pleasure-boat and his own 
hired man to assist in going after James. 

“ I saw the colonel as soon as I heard 
Minnie’s account,” he said, “ and fortunately 
found him in his garden. He offered his 
boat at once, and our man Andy is a fine 
rower. Can I help you to find any others to 
accompany you, Mr. Finney ?” 


JAMES IN DANGER. 


69 


“ You are very good, sir,” said Mr. Finney, 
“ but I have no doubt the boy can manage 
very well without any aid. You remember 
that he went off with Frank Blaine on one 
occasion, and Captain Blaine became seri- 
ously alarmed ; but I used my customary 
philosophy, and the result was that the boy 
came home all right.” 

“ But he owed his life then to the Indian 
who is now with him,” said Mr. Harris, “ and 
had it not been for him there would have 
been a serious ending to that frolic. I 
think you had better go after your boy, 
Mr. Finney.” 

“ You are very good, sir, but it would be 
quite impossible. I am going to address a 
ward-meeting to-night on the subject of 
land- titles. Pray give yourself no concern ; 
Jim will turn up all right.” 

Mr. Harris made no further effort to in- 
duce Mr. Finney to rescue his own son, but, 
turning to his mother, who appeared un- 
decided whether to quarrel with her hus- 
band’s philosophy or to share it, he said, 

“ I will go down to the beach and see the 
Silvio men. It is my duty as a Christian 


70 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


to do what I can, and these men will no 
doubt aid me to the extent of their abilities.” 

Mrs. McCook could hardly restrain her in- 
dignation at the unfeeling conduct of Mr. 
Finney, and when we were away from the 
house she told the minister she really won- 
dered at his patience with such an unnatural 
creature. 

“ He is very much intoxicated, and, though 
we may condemn the habit severely, we can 
scarcely judge of the real character of the 
man while he is under the influence of 
liquor,” said the patient old gentleman. 

I had not thought of it before, but when 
I recalled Mr. Finney’s rolling eye and 
stilted tone I wondered I had not under- 
stood him better. 

Mr. Harris found Colonel Hyde waiting 
for him at the roadside, and they hurried 
away together, intent on a generous effort to 
save the unfortunate Batters from the result 
of his own daring folly. 

There was nothing that I could do in the 
matter, yet I could not rest at home, and 
that night was one of the longest I ever 
spent. Next morning I almost dreaded to 


JAMES IN DANGER. 


71 


approach the laguna, lest the tidings await- 
ing me there were those of death. But 
just as I came into the short cut between 
the sandhills, Effie Hyde, who had been 
waiting there, ran forward to meet me with 
a joyful face. 

“ Batters came home this morning, safe 
and well, Miss Herbert,” she cried. “ Just 
think ! The fog came up, and Chumbo 
steered the wrong way, so that, instead of 
going over to the island, they ran out to sea, 
and the boat began to fill with water. Then 
they had to stop rowing and bail it with 
Chumbo’s hats. They did not see where 
they were going until a ship’s light warned 
them to get out of its way, and while try- 
ing to row off they swamped and the boat 
went down, leaving them in the water.” 

# Here she stopped to take breath, but see- 
ing my anxious face she hastened to con- 
clude her story : “ It was the Gray Eagle, 
Captain Blaine’s ship, and poor Batters 
shrieked out so that Frank, who was on 
deck, heard him, and two of the sailors 
jumped over and held them up until they 
lowered ropes to take them on board.” 


72 


CHUMBO'S HUT 


“When did they reach home?” 

“Just about daylight this morning, and 
Captain Blaine went up to see the Finneys 
himself, so that they should not punish 
Batters.” 

I was very much relieved at this happy 
termination of what I feared was a most 
serious affair, and, thanking Effie for so 
kindly removing my anxiety, I went on 
with her toward the school -house. 

Sarah Crofton was there, with only a 
slight scratch or two on her face, and, to 
judge by the way in which she chatted to 
the group around her, her spirits were quite 
restored. 

Egbert Hyde and his party were talking 
very earnestly together at the farther end 
of the playground ; and, having concluded 
to appeal to the boys’ magnanimity in James 
Finney’s behalf to give him a peaceable and 
generous reception on his return to school, 
1 took the opportunity and called them all 
in. * 

Egbert and Terence were the two to whom 
I particularly addressed myself, as they were 
the leaders of the two sets of boys, and their 


JAMES IN DANGER, 


73 


adherents would be likely to follow what- 
ever line of conduct they showed them as 
an example. 

But I found that the prejudice of the 
greater portion of the school was deeply 
rooted against poor James Finney. Years 
of antagonism and conflict had to be over- 
come before they could learn the Christian 
doctrine of forgiving injuries, rewarding evil 
with good and encouraging every germ of 
improvement in an unpromising soil. 

A very few seemed to feel as I would 
have them. Samuel McCook was all atten- 
tion and sympathy ; so was a boy called 
Audley Norris, who from sickness was 
absent when I first came to the school, but 
who proved to be an excellent scholar and 
a warm-hearted, generous-spirited boy. He 
was older than most of his companions, and, 
without being bold or obtrusive, would speak 
out in a frank, sensible manner that gave me 
great pleasure. Having requested permis- 
sion to do so now, he said he thought the 
boys who had driven Batters away in fear 
owed him a little reparation. He glanced 
toward Egbert Hyde as he spoke, and 


74 


CRUMB O’ S HUT. 


Egbert grew very much confused and mur- 
mured something about telltales. 

“ I am not telling tales, Miss Herbert, 1 ” 
said Audley Norris. “I am really sorry 
to think that the Laguna boys are called 
4 the quarrelers ’ by the city boys, and, as 
I am one of them, I would like to begin a 
life of peace by making friends with our 
old enemies, Batters and the Suranos.” 

I said I was very happy to hear him talk 
so wisely, and that I truly hoped others 
might feel as he did. I was standing near 
Edward Morley, and I heard him whisper 
to his friend Egbert, “ His aunt keeps Sun- 
day-school, and he is going to teach a class 
too, he is so pious;” at which Egbert and 
some others tittered and Audley grew angry. 

“ I wish I was good enough to do so,” he 
said rather sharply, “ but I hope I am too 
good to try and frighten away a poor boy 
by telling him that he is to be put in prison 
if the officers can catch him.” 

This personal turn to the conversation did 
not promise well. I repeated my charge to 
the boys as decidedly as possible, and rang 
the bell for the school to come to order. 


JAMES IN DANGER. 


75 


James was not present that morning. At 
recess his sister told me he had a chill 
“ from the ' scare he got from being tipped 
over last night.” She laughed, and said 
she guessed he only tried to make believe 
he was sick, to save himself from a whip- 
ping; besides, he wanted to see Frank 
Blaine, who had just returned from Mexico. 

The boys held a meeting under the win- 
dow back of my desk during the noon-hour, 
and, sitting there quietly, I overheard its 
object and design. 

It was proposed that a Laguna baseball 
club should be formed — that the boys should 
band together and subscribe money to pur- 
chase a new set of bats and balls, which 
should constitute them a stock company of 
owners, and prevent any one from joining 
in their games or councils except regularly- 
received members. 

“ This will keep Sam McCook and Frank 
Blaine out, because they say it is not right 
to divide off into parties at school,” said 
Egbert Hyde ; “ but, for my part, I do not 
believe in associating with thieves and vag- 
abonds, and I will never play in this yard 


76 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


if Batters or those Greaser boys come into 
a game.” 

Edward Morley eagerly supported this 
view of things, and he and John and Bich- 
ard Hunter made speeches in favor of it, 
and against receiving James Finney or his 
supporters with any degree of toleration. 

“ Miss Herbert is always talking Scripture 
at us, as if it was a Sunday-school ; but she 
must remember that ‘ Evil communications 
corrupt good manners 9 is Scripture too, and 
we do not want our manners corrupted by 
such low fellows as Batters. He finds soci- 
ety with a Digger, and that shows what he 
is.” Bichard Hunter said this in a tone 
of contempt, and his brother cried out as 
if struck with a sudden idea : “ Oh, I 
say, boys, I want to tell you something. 
Wouldn’t it be fun to drive old Chumbo 
away from the laguna? I have just thought 
of a first-rate plan, and no one need know 
anything about it but us.” 

He had gradually lowered his voice as 
he spoke, and he now ended in little more 
than a whisper. 

His communication seemed to be well 


JAMES IN DANGER. 


77 


received. They all laughed heartily at the 
secret he imparted in an under-tone, and 
engaged to join him in very high spirits. 

Out of the window at the other side of 
the room I saw Samuel McCook, Audley 
Norris and three or four other boys engaged 
in conversation. Presently, James Finney 
and a pale-faced boy entered the yard to- 
gether, and joined them. 


CHAPTER VI. 

JAMES AND CHUMBO. 

“ Bring forth, therefore, fruits meet for repentance.” — M att. 
iii. 8. 

I T was very evident from James’s manner 
that he was anxious to avoid observation, 
and a good deal sobered by what had hap- 
pened. When school began he slunk into 
his seat in a cowardly, shamefaced way, and 
only answered my friendly greeting with 
an unintelligible mutter. Frank Blaine, 
the delicate-looking boy, on the contrary, 
came directly up to me and spoke like a 
friend for James. “My father told me I 
might offer myself as security for his future 
good-behavior,” he said. “ If the boys will 
only let him alone, I am sure he will never 
trouble them again, and I am going to try 
and see that they do not annoy and pro- 
voke him.” 


78 


JAMES ANJD CHUMBO. 


79 


Egbert Hyde and some of the others 
exchanged glances, and I thought it was best 
not to bring the subject up again just then. 
So I only said that I was willing to accept 
Frank’s assurance, and would be glad to 
have him and James wait for me after school, 
as I had something to propose to them. 

It was not with much hope of compliance 
on James’s part that I did so when the time 
came ; but I felt it necessary, for the satis- 
faction of Mrs. Crofton, that James should 
see her and promise never again to interfere 
with her little girl in any way. 

He quite surprised me by answering, 
“ Teacher, I said so this morning. I went 
over there on purpose, and I told her she 
had better teach her Sarah to mind her own 
business, or next time she wouldn’t get off 
so easy.” 

I said he did right to make the apology, 
but deprecated the threat. 

“I hoped that you were done with re- 
venge and quarreling of all kinds, James,” 
I said. 

“ Oh, I did not mean that I would hurt 
her any more,” he explained; “ but she 


80 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


keeps poking her nose into everything, and 
she will be sure to catch it if she doesn’t 
stop.” 

While I was still talking with them a 
pleasant lady, elderly and very genial and 
interesting in her manner, came into the 
school-room with Audley Norris. 

He introduced her as his aunt, and she 
told me she was very glad to find me en- 
gaged as I was, for she had come to beg 
my influence to induce James Finney to 
join her Sunday-school class. 

At the name of Sunday-school, James 
began to scowl and fidget, and to show signs 
of dissatisfaction in various ways. 

“ Mr. Harris says we shall have a pleasant 
room at the back of the church, where there 
are pictures and maps and books to tell us 
all we want to know; and I have already 
put down the names of seven boys who 
promise to be there next Sunday.” 

I looked at James entreatingly, and he 
answered my gaze with a mingled expression 
corresponding with his words : 

“ I would like it well enough, but I have 
no clothes.” 


JAMES AND CHUMBO. 


81 


“You only want to be clean and tidy, 
James,” said Mrs. Norris. 

“Oh yes, I know all about that; if you 
have old clothes on you, the boys make fun 
of you in church or anywhere else,” said 
James. 

“How easily you might earn yourself 
plain, decent clothes, James!” said Mrs. 
Norris seriously. “I would not insult a 
strong, independent-spirited boy like you 
by offering you as a gift what you are fitted 
to buy for yourself, but I should be very 
glad to point out to you the means of 
working honestly for all you need ; and I 
think you would enjoy the feeling of wear- 
ing garments for which you had paid by 
your own industry.” 

James muttered something about only 
caring for a fellow when he was all dress- 
ed up, and despising him when he did not 
look nice and stylish. 

Mrs. Norris smiled : “You know better 
than that, James. I do not pay as much 
attention to the outside as you do, for I 
heard you call to Samuel McCook the other 
day not to eat some apples you picked up 


82 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


on the outside of Hunter’s orchard, because 
the skin was dry and blotched, and they 
were only fit to throw to the pigs. I would 
never condemn any person or thing alto- 
gether on account of external appearance, 
but I always like to improve it if I can do 
so.” 

James smiled, but relapsing instantly into 
his suspicious nature, said, “ You don’t .ask 
any of the genteel boys to go to Sunday- 
school. There are the Hunters and the 
Morleys and Egbert Hyde, and others like 
them ; why don’t you go after them ?” 

“ Most of them are scholars already,” said 
Mrs. Norris. “ Besides, I have only one 
class to make up, and I began with my 
own nephew, Audley here, and went around 
choosing others, one of whom chanced to be 
you.” 

“Please choose me, Mrs. Norris,” said 
Samuel McCook. 

“ And me too,” said Frank Blaine. 

“ Now, then, my number is complete,” said 
Mrs. Norris, smiling. “ Ten are enough to 
begin with, and unless Julius Fayot’s father 
thinks it too far for him to go to the city 


JAMES AND CHTJMBO. 


83 


every Sunday, there is no other boy in your 
room, Miss Herbert, for me to claim.” 

“ Julius said his father wanted him to go 
to St. John’s, if you took a boys’ class there, 
aunt,” said Audley. 

“ Well, I am going to the green-house 
now, and will speak to Mr. Fayot about it,” 
said Mrs. Norris ; and turning to James, she 
asked if he would not walk that way with 
her, which he readily agreed to do. 

She stopped a few minutes to talk about 
our school interests, and she had such a 
cheerful, encouraging manner that the boys 
and myself seemed alike pleased and re- 
freshed by her hearty spirit. At parting 
she said in a low tone that we must work 
together— that two or three, being gathered 
together in the name of the Lord, could not 
fail if they put their trust in him. “ There 
is no work in which we can afford to do 
without his help and guidance,” she con- 
tinued ; “and the education of youth is so 
serious a labor that it demands all the grace 
he bestows to aid it.” 


My poor little scholar, Jane Ware, was 


84 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


very sick. Sarah Crofton, whose busy na- 
ture could not be restrained, came to me 
with dilated eyes and heaving chest and be- 
gan to describe the child’s sufferings : “ Oh, 
teacher, she has a swelled throat, with a 
great lump on each side, so that she cannot 
breathe ; and she coughs so hard that the 
doctor says she must die if she does not get 
better soon. Her mother is nearly- crazy, 
and her father is away off in the mines, and 
cannot come home for two months.” 

“ Did you see Jane yourself, Sarah ?” 

“ No, ma’am, but Bessie Parrish says her 
mother heard all about it from the milkman, 
and our Harry was playing with Terry Law, 
and he told the boys that there were two 
doctors there at once ; so she must be nearly 
dead, Miss Herbert.” 

After school I went to see how much of 
this account owed its origin to Sarah’s lively 
imagination, and discovered that my poor 
little scholar was very ill, and that the family 
had been very badly off*. Her absent father 
did not go to the mines to find employment 
until he had tried hard to get it in the city. 
They had therefore exhausted everything in 


JAMES AND CIJUMBO. 


85 


the time of waiting, and were bare of even 
the necessaries of life. 

Before her daughter’s illness Mrs. Ware 
had got work as a washer and ironer, but 
Jane’s sickness had interrupted it, so that 
now one source of her small income was gone. 

“Miss Esther Blaine is Jane’s Sunday- 
school teacher,” she told me, “and when 
Batters heard that my poor child was sick 
he went and told Miss Esther; and she 
came right over, and brought her some nice 
fruit and jellies. I never saw a boy look 
more pleased than Batters did when I told 
him of it this morning.” 

This was only a few days after Mrs. Nor- 
ris’s visit, and his conduct at school had 
been so circumspect that I really began to 
look on him as a reformed boy. 

“ I think James is greatly improved,” I 
said, “ and am very glad to hear of any act 
of his that shows good-feeling and kind- 
ness.” 

“Well, then, Miss Herbert, I must tell 
you another good thing he did,” said good- 
natured Mrs. Ware. “Though I cannot 
leave Jenny long enough to do my usual 


86 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


washing, I can sew as I sit beside her ; and 
Mrs. McBride, who gets more tailoring-work 
than she can do from the city stores, said she 
would let me have some of it if I could send 
for it every morning and take it back every 
night. I could not manage it very well, be- 
cause of leaving Jane alone, but Batters of- 
fered to bring and take it, and he has done 
it for three mornings and evenings regu- 
larly.” 

I was really rejoiced to hear this, and 
finding that little Jane was now being cared 
for as well as possible by her good friend 
Miss Blaine and her kind, industrious moth- 
er, I left her the pretty book of illustrated 
Scripture stories I had brought her, and 
promised to come again the next day. 

Farther up the road I met little Effie 
Hyde and Caroline Harris carrying some 
dainties in a covered basket to the sick 
child, and I commended their kindness to 
their little schoolmate. 

“She is in our Sunday-school class, you 
know, Miss Herbert,” said Effie, as if that 
accounted for it. “ Miss Blaine keeps tell- 
ing us every Sunday that the best way to 


JAMES AND CHUMBO. 


87 


show we love the Saviour is to help and 
comfort each other ; and Caroline and I are 
glad to get a chance to do something for poor 
Jenny.” 

When I reached Samuel McCook’s house 
I met two more of my scholars intent on 
missionary-work, and I began to feel proud 
of my Laguna pupils, and to wonder how I 
could ever have felt discouraged or hopeless 
about them. This time it was Frank 
Blaine’s and Samuel’s benevolence that ex- 
cited my admiration, and their errand was 
to carry food to poor Chumbo, who had been 
sick and unable to help himself ever since 
his adventure in the leaky boat. 

“ Michael Surano went over and threat- 
ened him terribly if he did not pay him for 
his boat,” said Frank Blaine; “and poor 
Chumbo is very timid, so that he lies there 
in fear and misery all the time.” 

Remembering the Indian’s wretched ap- 
pearance, it seemed to me the height of folly 
for any one to expect him to produce money 
on any account ; and I told the boys I won- 
dered at Surano’s want of sense in making 
such a demand. 


88 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


They surprised me by saying that it was 
generally believed around the laguna that 
the Indian possessed concealed treasures; 
that he was one of a party of Diggers who 
had dwelt along the bay-shore before the 
white people came ; and that a Spanish ship 
had been wrecked off Point Lobos one foggy 
night, and all on board had been drowned 
in their efforts to launch a small boat which 
capsized with them. The Diggers were thus 
left sole possessors of the spoil of the wreck, 
and so they divided and buried it all along 
the coast. Chumbo’s share was popularly 
supposed to lie under his hut, and this con- 
clusion was confirmed by the pertinacity with 
which he had clung to his miserable habi- 
tation, although in the very wet winter that 
had preceded this season Colonel Hyde had 
kindly offered him the use of a weather- 
tight shanty, much better and more com- 
fortable than his miserable hovel. 

The boys talked seriously, and were, I 
perceived, fully imbued with the belief in 
Chumbo’s hidden wealth, though they dis- 
approved of Surano’s harsh effort to reach 
a portion of it. 


JAMES AND CHUMBO. 


89 


“ He must not come tormenting poor 
Chumbo while he is sick,” said Frank, “ or 
I will beg my father to interfere. The In- 
dian is a kind old man, and though he does 
not seem right in his mind when he talks to 
other people, he is always sensible and good 
to Batters and me.” 

I commended their good work, and laughed 
at the treasure story, which they did not seem 
to like. I rather wondered at Batters not 
being of their party till I saw him start off 
on a run from McBride's door with a bundle 
toward Mrs. Ware's house, which was near 
the school. 

This was a very satisfactory explanation 
of his not being one of Chumbo's visitors, 
but I found next morning that he had been 
there by his presenting me with a piece of 
white coral which Chumbo had sent me. 

His manner was unusually nervous and 
perplexed, and I therefore concluded he had 
something to say to me, and asked him if it 
was not so. 

“ Yes, ma'am,” he said, apparently much 
surprised at my penetration. Then he stam- 
mered and struggled with his words for a lit- 


90 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


tie while, till at last he broke out with, “ Is 
there any law to make an Indian pay for an 
old boat that was of no use to any one ?” 

“ You mean Michael Surano’s, that you 
swamped, do you not, James?” 

“ Yes, but it would have swamped anyhow; 
he could not use it to go a rod from shore, 
and now he comes bullying poor Chumbo, 
who has pains all over his back and cannot 
bend his knees, and he wants him' to dig up 
his money and pay him for it, just as if it 
had been good.” 

I looked, as I felt, quite serious, and James, 
watching my countenance, asked in surprise, 
“ Isn’t it wrong, Miss Herbert ?” 

“ Yes, James, but the wrong did not begin 
there ; it was not Surano who commenced the 
difficulty.” 

James remained silent, and something of 
his old sullen mood came over him. He 
mumbled in an under-tone to the effect that 
of course it was his fault — he was always to 
blame ; nobody ever did anything wrong but 
him , etc. 

I took no notice of this ; at last he said, 
still in an injured strain, “ The boat was of 


JAMES AND CHUMBO. 


91 


no use. It was not worth a cent, because it 
would drown any one who got into it.” 

“ Had you known it was so worthless would 
you have ventured in it, James? Didn’t 
you mean to borrow it, thinking it was a 
safe boat, and pay Surano for the loan when 
you came back ?” 

“ Yes, I did, truly,” said James ; “ I meant 
to give him bushels of gulls’ eggs.” 

He looked very earnest and sincere, and I 
felt that half the errors he had ever com- 
mitted were meant to be repaired in some 
such way. 

“ You did not get any eggs, but you sunk 
Surano’s boat. Whatever wrong there was, 
therefore, belonged to you, and you should 
make the reparation.” 

“How can I? I have nothing to give 
him.” 

“ Nothing but your time and strength, 
James.” 

He looked very gloomy and discontented, 
but kept silent for a time. 

“ James,” I said, very gravely, “ were you 
not in great danger that night in the bay ?” 

“ Yes, ma’am.” 


92 


CHXJMBO'S HUT. 


“ You think of it at night when you wake 
up now, and you thank God that his mercy 
saved you from that yawning grave in the 
water ?” 

“ Yes, ma’am, I do, and I am trying to 
remember what Mr. Harris said to me when 
I was coming home about being saved for a 
good purpose. I like him ; he is a real good 
man, and no make-believe.” 

“ What did he say you ought to do ?” 

“ Why, he told me I must show signs of a 
better life, so that God would see I did not 
forget the Gray Eagle’s coming to my 
rescue ; and he called it 4 bearing good fruit.’ 
All I know is, I have stopped swearing, and 
I have not thrown a single stone since at any 
one, nor hit our Kit, let her be ever so saucy 
to me. That is all I could do, and even that 
comes pretty hard sometimes.” 

James did not count his kind acts for 
Mrs. Ware and Chumbo ; he had only tried 
to refrain from evil — the good came sponta- 
neously. 

“Did Mr. Harris say for whose sake and 
by whose help you must try to do all this ?” 

“ Yes ; he said God’s Son was my friend, 


JAMES AND CHUMBO. 


93 


and that he loved me just as well as if I were 
dressed up in the height of the style and had 
a splendid house and horses and carriages of 
my own.” 

“True; and now, James, I leave you to 
think about Surano’s boat. It was you, not 
Chumbo, who borrowed it. Captain Blaine 
can tell you what its value was, and perhaps 
show you some way ta pay it back.” 

This conversation occurred during play- 
time, and James in a thoughtful way was 
gazing out of the window into the ground, 
where the newly-formed Laguna Club — dis- 
tinguished from the other scholars by a star 
of silver paper pinned to their jackets — were 
enjoying a game with splendid new balls and 
ornamented bats. 

“ I think I know a way myself,” said he 
musingly. 

Just then a ball bounded in among his 
flowers, and he started up with an angry 
mutter, but controlled himself by a strong 
effort. 

“Never mind, never mind,” he growled. 
“Let them go ahead. They are trying to 
get me mad; that is what they are after.” 


94 


CIIUMBO’S HUT. 


James’s feet were new in the narrow way, 
and it was rough and hard to tread just then. 
I tried to smooth it by going out and re- 
proving the boys’ thoughtlessness and setting 
up the disordered stick-paling once more. 


CHAPTEE VII. 

CHUMBO’S HUT. 

“Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive 
me.” — Ps. exxxviii. 7. 

A T Mrs. Norris’s invitation I went to St. 

John’s Sunday-school a few weeks after 
her class was organized, and saw James 
Finney in his place in her class, dressed in a 
decent, clean suit that gave him a very differ- 
ent appearance from the one he had in his 
neglected rags. He seemed attentive and in- 
terested in his lessons, and his teacher told me 
that it was a pleasure to instruct him, he seemed 
so ready to learn and eager to understand. 

Samuel and Frank were his companions, 
and I knew a good deal of the blessed change 
observable in the “ worst boy ” was owing to 
their example and encouragement. 

Mrs. Harris had succeeded in inducing 
Kitty Finney to become a member of her 
class, and I noticed her sitting between Alice 

95 


96 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


Morley and Minnie Harris, and comparing 
her own rather flaunting toilet with theirs 
during the progress of the lesson, not entirely 
to her own satisfaction if I could judge by 
the frequent adjustment of her cape and 
under-sleeves and the clasping and unclasp- 
ing of her cheap bracelets. 

Jenny Ware, my poor sick scholar, still 
lingered on her couch of pain, and Mr. 
Harris spoke very tenderly of the dear little 
suffering girl and the patient, loving faith 
that sustained her. 

He told, in a simple, attractive way, the 
story of her illness having brought her very 
near to the dear heavenly Father, who loves 
and pities his children in affliction, and men- 
tioned a scholar who often stole an hour from 
play to come and read to her of the dear 
Saviour’s love and mercy. He said he had 
one day overheard the reading of the Prod- 
igal’s story, and dwelt on the deep feeling 
with which the poor wanderer’s return was 
rendered by the reader, who evidently saw 
the tired, foot-sore and heart- weary boy come 
back in rags and misery within sight of the 
grand old home he had left in folly. 


CHXJMBO'S HUT. 


97 


My eyes chanced to turn to James Fin- 
ney’s face, and in a moment I knew who the 
reader was; his lips were parted, and he 
leaned forward, all alive to the minister’s 
words, while his eyes swam in unconscious 
tears. 

I was greatly affected at this sight. I had 
been doubtful of success even when I had 
been most anxious for it ; and now that this 
unlooked-for evidence of the working of a 
sure and vital change appeared, I could 
scarcely contain my thankfulness. 

I pressed Mrs. Norris’s hand in token of 
my grateful pleasure, and said heartily, 
“ There is no fear to be felt for James now. 
I see he is indeed a reformed boy, and I am 
truly thankful.” 

She looked very happy too, but not quite 
so confident. “ He is under good influences,” 
she said, “ and I am full of hope for him.” 

The next week I heard he went to Mr. 
Fayot’s garden every afternoon, and worked 
for him, giving fair satisfaction and showing- 
great readiness in learning the business. 

I went to see Jenny Ware frequently, but 
I never met him there, although I often saw 

7 


98 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


the other scholars gathered around the little 
bed, from which I gradually became con- 
vinced that poor dear Jenny would never 
rise again. She had always been a delicate 
child, and although the acute disease of her 
throat was allayed, a terrible cough lingered, 
shaking her weak frame and consuming her 
feeble strength. 

The Parrishes were the Wares’ nearest 
neighbors, but they too were poor people, 
and until lately they had found it hard to 
get on in life. Mrs. Parrish had been years 
before left a widow, but she had a son who, 
when he came of age, had set himself ener- 
getically to work to help his mother, and had 
gone on from one thing to another until he 
had acquired capital enough to become a 
newspaper-agent, a business sufficiently re- 
munerative to give their neat home many 
additional articles of comfort. It was pleas- 
ant to mark how his good mother, as soon as 
her own means increased, helped her afflicted 
neighbor, and how poor little Jenny’s suffer- 
ing had drawn the sympathies of the Laguna 
people around the little cottage among the 
sandhills. 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


99 


One afternoon the sick girl seemed better 
when I was there, and her mother said she 
was greatly refreshed by some grapes a kind 
friend from the city had sent her. They 
were all gone now, and I hastened away for 
the purpose of getting her some more, but 
found my friend at the fruit-store absent 
on a purchasing errand to the steamer laden 
with fresh grapes from the southern coast. 
He would be back in the evening, but too 
late for me to return to the valley ; conse- 
quently I ordered a nice fresh package. I 
rose very early the next morning, having 
promised to breakfast with Mrs. Harris on 
my return from Mrs. Ware’s. 

The stores were all closed as I passed out 
the Laguna road ; so were the dwelling- 
houses, and I did not meet any one stirring 
until I passed the church and came in sight 
of the school-house. Then I saw a boy 
running briskly along from the direction 
of the school with a large package under 
his arm. He started at sight of me, and I 
plainly recognized James Finney, but he did 
not desire to stop, and I thought he was not 
pleased at meeting me, for he kept right on 


100 


CH UMBO’S HUT. 


after a hurried word of greeting, and I won- 
dered, without being able to discover, why he 
had so avoided me, and what his early errand 
might be. 

Jenny was sleeping when I reached Mrs. 
Ware’s. She had not rested during the 
night, and only sank into slumber about 
an hour before. Of course I did not dis- 
turb her, but left the fruit, with my love, foi 
her when she should awake. 

Mrs. Ware looked worn and sad. She had 
evidently not been in bed at all, and, coming 
to the door with me, remarked that some- 
body must have slept in the school-house 
yard, for she had seen a figure tumbling over 
the wall among the branches of the trees 
some time since daylight. I scarcely noted 
the incident as she mentioned it then, but I 
thought of it afterward. 

I walked down toward the school before 
going to Mrs. Harris’s, and saw Mrs. Parrish 
standing in her porch, with the broom and 
brushes ready for her morning’s work in the 
school-room; but she seemed waiting for 
some one inside, and did not look toward me 
again. 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


101 


After crossing the road and walking 
through the tule-patli down by the laguna, I 
returned and reached the parsonage in good 
time for breakfast. 

Minnie and Caroline had been gathering 
flowers to beautify the table, and their fresh 
young faces shone with pleasant excitement. 

“ We were afraid you were not coming, 
Miss Herbert,” said Minnie. “ Carrie and 
I have been running to the corner and look- 
ing down toward Fayot’s all the morning, 
and just as Carrie said, ‘ I am afraid she 
will not come/ you appeared in the other 
direction.” 

“ Yes, I took a walk by the laguna before 
I came here. I always wanted to see the 
little lake, and this was my first oppor- 
tunity.” 

“ Then perhaps you can tell us what oc- 
casioned the noise and smoke we noticed 
coming from that direction last evening,” 
said Mr. Harris. “ At first I thought some 
one had fired the tule, but it scarcely lasted 
long enough for that, and Harry Crofton 
told me it came from the neighborhood of 
Chumbo’s hut.” 


102 


CHUM BO'S HUT. 


“ I did not go so far, and there was no 
sign of fire where I was among the tule,” I 
said. 

Mr. Harris appeared disturbed by the oc- 
currence. “ I wish I knew what it was,” he 
said ; “ I wish I was quite sure there was 
no mischief at the bottom of it.” 

I thought of James Finney running along 
the road with a bundle under his arm, and a 
vague fear of his being mixed up with it made 
me uncomfortable. 

Mrs. Harris set aside a dish of fruit and 
a small mug of cream to be carried over to 
Jenny Ware by the children on their way 
to school. 

“ Poor, dear little Jenny !” she sighed ; 
“it is very sad to think of her lying there 
fading day by day. But even the darkest 
cloud has its silver lining, and there is a 
very bright one to that which hangs over 
Mrs. Ware’s cottage. Sarah Crofton used to 
be the most troublesome and unmanageable 
child in the Sunday-school. I had almost 
given up the effort to impress her in any 
way, when, to my surprise and pleasure, she 
suddenly became interested and attentive to 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


103 


her lessons. ‘ I want to tell Jenny all about 
them/ she said. ‘ She asks me everything, 
and loves to hear what we learn each Sun- 
day/ That was the beginning of Sarah’s 
improvement, and every day seems to add to 
it. Sitting by the bedside of the patient 
child, she learns to control her own restless 
spirit, and in imparting pleasure and com- 
fort to her suffering friend acquires a love 
of usefulness that conquers the meddlesome 
and erratic temper she used to have/’ 

“ James Finney is another of Jenny’s 
debtors,” said the clergyman. “ We have 
all tried to help that boy along, and his 
fright in the bay had a strong influence over 
him for good too ; but I really believe the 
most lasting and beneficial lessons are those 
he takes from little Jane when he carries her 
mother’s work.” 

“ Perhaps that bundle may have been for 
Mrs. Ware,” I thought. “ But no ; if it had 
been, she would have spoken of it; and be- 
sides, he was hurrying away past her house, 
without stopping.” I was half inclined to 
mention it to Mr. Harris, but some impulse 
restrained me, and after a pleasant hour or 


104 


CHUMBO' S HUT. 


so I was warned by the clock that it was 
time to go to the school. 

Harry Crofton, Audley Norris and some 
of the other boys were standing in front of 
the playground talking eagerly to Thomas 
Walker, a boy from the laguna. They left 
him and ran up to meet me when I came in 
sight. 

Two or three of them spoke at once, and 
at first I could scarcely tell what they said, 
as they repeated the name of Chumbo fre- 
quently and in great excitement. At length 
Audley became intelligible above the rest, 
and from him I learned that Chumbo’s hut 
had been blown up by gunpowder, and the 
earth all dug up under it by some thieves in 
search of his treasure, while Chumbo him- 
self must have been killed by the explosion, 
as he could nowhere be found. 

“ Then he is safe,” I said, trying to con- 
ceal my own alarm, “ for if he had been 
blown up his body would have been found 
somewhere.” 

“ Who could have done it ?” repeated every 
boy. 

It was a question I asked myself, and Mr. 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


105 


Weston echoed it as soon as I entered the 
school-room. 

“ Our boys are entirely innocent of this 
affair, Miss Herbert/’ he said with great sat- 
isfaction. “ I have already asked every one 
on his word of honor if he was near that 
place since school closed yesterday. You 
see, I have the name of every lad in our 
building signed to this solemn disclaimer, 
except James Finney’s. I am waiting for 
him to come and answer for himself.” 

I looked at the paper ; it was headed by a 
statement that no boy whose name appeared 
below had been in the vicinity of Chumbo’s 
hut since the school closed the afternoon be- 
fore, and the first names following were 
those of the club members. 

I remembered Surano’s anger against 
Chumbo on account of his boat, and won- 
dered if the fisher could have taken such 
an unjustifiable revenge. I was nervous and 
uneasy, wishing for James to come, yet 
dreading his appearance. 

“The Surano boys live nearest to Chumbo; 
they might tell when they saw him last,” 
suggested Audley Norris. 


106 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


Mr. Weston called them in from the play- 
ground and put the question. They tried 
to remember, but failed. Juan thought he 
had seen the old Indian after they return- 
ed from school, but Gines said he was on 
the sandhill playing, and he did not see 
him. 

“ Where was your father last evening ?” 
asked Mr. Weston. 

Gines replied without the least hesitation, 
“He was out in Silvio’s boat. They went 
over to fish near the island, and came back 
very late.” 

“ Then it could not have been he, for the 
explosion occurred shortly after dark.” 

One of the smaller boys called out, “ Here 
comes James Finney ! Terry Law says he 
was over to Chumbo’s last night.” 

“ Come here, Terence,” said Mr. Weston 
quickly, and he smiled at me significantly, 
as much as to say, “ Now we are getting the 
real culprit,” for he remembered James as 
the torment of the school, and was not dis- 
posed to believe in him under any other 
character. 

Terry Law was very reluctant to appear 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


107 


as a witness against James. He came for- 
ward much against his will, and replied 
evasively to Mr. Weston’s questions. 

The principal grew angry : “ What do 
you mean, Terence ? Answer me directly : 
did you see James Finney near the laguna 
last night?” 

“No, sir — not near the laguna.” 

“ Where did you see him ? You have 
just told the boys that you saw him over 
near the Indian’s hut, and I insist that you 
answer me at once, and truly.” 

Just at that moment James entered the 
school-room. It was fully time for the 
opening exercises, but this investigation de- 
layed them. 

Mr. Weston saw the boy, and turned 
upon him suddenly: “Come here, James 
Finney, and tell us where you were be- 
tween the hours of four and nine yesterday 
afternoon.” 

James disliked Mr. Weston, and at his 
sharp, severe tone all the sullen, malicious 
spirit of the past seemed to revive. His 
brow lowered, and in a dogged tone he 
answered, 


108 


CH UMBO’S HUT. 


“I was minding my business — at work, 
helping Mr. Fayot.” 

“ Julius Fayot, come here,” cried Mr. 
Weston ; and as the boy appeared he said 
gravely, “ Now listen, and be sure you 
answer correctly : when did James Finney 
leave your father’s green-house yesterday 
afternoon ?” 

J ulius was a slow, methodical sort of boy ; 
he took quite a little time to think, and 
having assured himself that he was correct 
in his remembering, answered, “He went 
away before six, because he said he had an 
errand to go ; he told father he would stay 
longer to-night to make up for it.” 

“ Now, Terence, you may as well tell the 
truth,” said Mr. Weston; “and, James, I 
advise you seriously not to add falsehood to 
your other fault.” 

James looked wrathfully all around; not 
a trace of his late gentleness remained in 
his disturbed countenance. 

“Are you trying to corner me because 
poor Chumbo’s hut is burnt down ?” he 
asked angrily. “Do you suppose I would 
do anything to hurt him or his place?” 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


109 


“ Terence Law thought he saw you in the 
neighborhood. Prove that you were not 
there, and the suspicion will be removed,” 
I said. 

“ I cannot prove it, for I was there,” 
said James sullenly, after a silence of a 
minute or two. “ But I did not go to do 
any one any harm, and no one can show 
that I did.” 

“ Come,” said Mr. Weston decidedly, 
“ that settles the matter, and takes the 
stigma off the rest of the school. You 
can come into my room at noon, James, 
and give me a full explanation of this affair. 
If it is satisfactory, no one can be more 
ready than I to exonerate you. If, on the 
contrary, I find you in fault, it will end your 
connection with the Laguna School.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE ACCUSATION. 

“Iniquities prevail against me.” — Ps. lxv. 3. 

I HAD been so exultant over James’s 
reformation, I had gone to Mr. Fayot’s 
with Mrs. Norris to procure him employ- 
ment there, and so unhesitatingly pledged 
myself for his good behavior, so many 
weeks had passed without any backsliding 
on his part, that I had become perfectly 
secure in my confidence, and awoke with a 
shock to the painful doubt suggested by his 
returning scowl and the admission that he 
had been at the laguna last night. Suspi- 
cion was distressingly confirmed by my 
meeting him that very morning with a 
bundle under his arm and an unmistakable 
disposition to avoid recognition. 

The lessons did not go easily that forenoon. 
The disposition to whisper over Chumbo’s 
no 


THE ACCUSATION. 


Ill 


disappearance and the destruction of his hut 
was too strong to be withstood by the smaller 
boys ; and although the older ones were par- 
ticularly quiet, and even appeared awestruck 
by the occurrence of the morning, they could 
not concentrate their attention on their books, 
and answered at random when I questioned 
them in their studies. 

James sat with his head bent over his slate 
and his arithmetic before him, but I was not 
surprised to see that no results followed this 
appearance of study. I did not chide him 
for idleness when his class was called, nor 
did I think it best to interfere with Mr. 
Weston’s plan. I could therefore only wait 
until recess-time, hoping, without much as- 
surance, that he could justify himself to the 
principal. 

The great reason for my uneasiness lay in 
James’s passion for wealth, and the belief 
which he shared with the rest of the scholars 
as to Chumbo’s treasures. He had got the 
Indian into trouble on account of Surano’s 
boat, and they might have quarreled in con- 
sequence. Chumbo was in the habit of 
absenting himself on wandering tours, and a 


112 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


few months ago it would have been quite in 
character for Batters to have destroyed his 
shelter and dug up the earth for spoils. 

I thought I had implicitly believed in his 
reformation, but now that a doubt was sug- 
gested I felt there was more hope than assur- 
ance in the feeling. 

James did not go toward the door of Mr. 
Weston’s room when the scholars ran out to 
play. He remained in his seat with the same 
sullen, downcast air he had worn all the 
morning, until a summons came from the 
principal ; then he sprang up in a desperate 
way and dashed out of the school-room and 
out of the playground. 

Then Mr. Weston came in himself. “ That 
boy’s conduct convicts him,” he said. “ He 
is suspended from the school, and if no satis- 
factory explanation is produced I will make 
it a final expulsion. Ever since I came to 
the Laguna School he has been a drawback 
to the good character and success of the 
institution, and I have come to the con- 
clusion that his presence injures the others, 
without conferring any benefit on himself.” 

Just then the chief members of the club 


THE ACCUSATION. 


113 


rushed in, betraying great excitement, and 
declaring that their box of balls and bats 
had been broken to pieces and the contents 
carried off. 

“ Batters did it, Mr. Weston,” cried Egbert 
Hyde, apparently very eager to create a com- 
motion. “ He said he would do something 
to us boys to be revenged for our ball's 
breaking his stick-fence. Frank Blaine 
heard him ; so did Sam McCook and Aud- 
ley Norris, and they cannot deny it.” 

“ I beard him say he would teach you to 
behave properly, but I know he never meant 
to take your balls. He told Mrs. Norris he 
intended to try and be honest in every way 
since he learned what honesty meant.” 
Samuel McCook said this with a flushed 
face and ardent manner. He seemed great- 
ly roused, and quite unshaken in his faith in 
James. 

“ Every one in the valley knows that he 
steals, and is not ashamed of it,” said Edward 
Morley. “ He is not a fit associate for decent 
boys.” 

Edward placed provoking emphasis on the 
adjective, and Samuel's spirit rose. “ But he 

8 


114 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


was always fit for decent boys to provoke 
and insult, it seems/’ he said angrily. “I 
have seen you and the Hunters and Egbert 
Hyde try to make him savage, so that you 
might complain of him.” 

“ Come ! come ! none of this !” cried Mr. 
Weston, interrupting the boys. “ We want 
no side quarrels or personal feeling. The 
boy is either guilty or innocent, and we must 
try to prove which it is, and act accordingly. 
He has run away — which is a bad sign to 
begin with — and so we must carry on this 
investigation without his help, and report to 
his father. Did any one here see James 
Finney this morning before school-hours?” 

Mr. Weston looked around upon the group, 
and then turned his eyes toward me. 

I was forced to answer, much against my 
will, that I did, and to detail how I had met 
him on the road with a package in his arms. 

Egbert Hyde was apparently delighted to 
hear this. “ He carried off our balls and bats 
and sold them, boys,” he cried ; “ our Effie 
saw him have money in his hand — quite a 
good deal of it, too — this morning before 
school.” 


THE ACCUSATION. 


m 


Audley and Frank seemed as much de- 
pressed as the club-boys were elated at these 
discoveries. When Mr. Weston asked if any 
one else had seen James have money, it be- 
came very evident that Frank had, from his 
changing color ; and when pressed with ques- 
tions he was forced to acknowledge that 
James had shown it to him with a triumph- 
ant air, without saying where he got it or 
for what purpose he meant to use it. 

Recess- time being over, Mr. Weston called 
several of the boys into his own room, and 
told me he would make a regular statement 
of the case from such evidence as he could 
collect, and make its result a final decision 
as regarded James’s continuing a member 
of the school. 

I begged him to remember the late good 
behavior of the boy and the prejudice of 
his accusers, saying all I could in his favor, 
until I saw I was rather annoying Mr. Wes- 
ton by what he called my “ unaccountable 
partiality.” 

“ You are the principal witness against 
the lad yourself, Miss Herbert,” he said ; 
“ you met him this morning running along 


116 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


the road from the school at an unusual 
hour with a suspicious package, and, as you 
have said, he rather avoided you and gave 
no explanation of his errand.” 

I was forced to acknowledge that this was 
true, and content myself to remain silent 
until I could see James and hear the truth 
from him. 

Before I went to Mr. Finney’s, however, 
I made up my mind to have a talk with 
Egbert Hyde, who was James’s greatest 
enemy in the school. I saw those who had 
acted as his friends were greatly depressed, 
and I noticed too that Terence Law appear- 
ed very anxious to say anything he could 
in favor of James, although he used to be 
his antagonist. 

I purposely lingered till all the boys had 
left the vicinity at the close of school, but 
going out I found Terry lingering too, and 
spoke to him about James and the Indian. 

Terence lived over toward the sandhills, 
and I thought he might have seen something 
that had not yet been brought to light ; so 
I asked him if he thought James and Chum- 
bo had been good friends. 


THE ACCUSATION. 


117 


“ Yes, Batters liked the Indian, and they 
used to divide anything they got together. 
I know Chumbo was angry about the leaky 
boat, and one night I heard him tell Batters 
that Michael Surano came and threatened 
him, saying that he would burn his hut 
down if he did not pay him for its loss.” 

“ Did any one else hear Surano say this, 
Terry?” 

“No, ma’am, but I told Egbert Hyde 
about it, and he says that all the boys knew 
Surano meant to do it.” 

“ But Surano was out fishing,” I said. 

“ Yes, ma’am, that is what they say, and 
they think he put Batters up to doing it 
while he was away, so that he would not 
be suspected, and that they then dug up 
Chum bo’s money and shared it. Effie 
Hyde saw Batters have some.” 

“But that was in notes, Terence — small 
notes of currency ; and if Chumbo has any 
treasure it is not in that form.” 

But Terence seemed to think that all 
money was alike, and I had some difficulty 
in convincing him that a buried note would 
not remain valuable long. 


118 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


I saw that the other boys had been im- 
pressing him with their opinions against 
James, and that he was almost persuaded, 
though unwillingly, to believe him guilty. 

“ I wish I had not seen him last night,” 
he said ; “ I can’t bear to say anything 
against a boy when he is away ; and he 
didn’t want to be seen. He tried hard to 
get out of sight when I came up and found 
him whispering to Michael Surano.” 

I felt I must try and find James Finney 
at once; everything seemed to go against 
him, and there was nothing to be said in 
his favor. 

Terence walked along with me. He 
seemed anxious to help James’s cause, and 
I begged him not to condemn his school- 
mate unheard. When we came to the 
spot where our roads divided, I repeated 
my desire that he would do all he could 
to prevent groundless prejudice from taking 
possession of the boys’ minds, and he prom- 
ised very generously to do his best. 

“I never could agree with Batters — he 
had too much fight in him — but lately he 
has acted so differently that I was getting 


THE ACCUSATION. 


119 


to like him. He tried to do right, and it 
was hard for him to stick to it, with all the 
boys so down on him. I told Egbert so 
just now,” he said. 

When we parted I went directly to 
Egbert’s house, and found him in the front 
garden training half a dozen boys in mili- 
tary tactics, as he had seen his father’s 
officers do at the fort. 

He did not seem very eager to accept my 
invitation to walk with me, but Edward 
Morley took his place as drill-sergeant at 
my suggestion, and he came with me down 
the road. 

“ Egbert,” I said gravely when we were 
out of sight and hearing of the rest, “I 
think you are not sorry to prove that James 
Finney blew up Chumbo’s house and carried 
off your bats and balls. Why do you dis- 
like the boy so much? and why do you 
wish to see him punished?” 

He grew confused at these pointed ques- 
tions, and stammered something about not 
liking to mix with roughs and the school 
being disgraced with such low boys. 

“ But you do not want to drive a boy 


120 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


who is trying to do right back to the bad 
habits from which he has endeavored to 
escape? Your good father teaches you a 
different principle, I am sure, Egbert, and 
unless you explain to me your reason for 
this persecution I must appeal to him on 
the subject.” 

He looked alarmed, and hastened to say 
in a contradictory way that he did not hate 
Batters; it was Batters who hated him, and 
that all the boys in the city grammar schools 
made fun of the Laguna boys for being 
mixed up with scavengers and ragged fel- 
lows. He repeated two or three times that 
he had never put on airs because his father 
was an officer, as Batters said he did, and 
he never cared about being captain of the 
school till Batters declared he would thrash 
every boy who voted for him. 

“ Who told you all these disagreeable 
things about James?” 

“ Oh, Ned Morley heard him call out 
that, and plenty more on the parade-ground, 
when all our school was organizing for pro- 
cession and most of the boys had said I 
should be captain, only Batters set them 


THE ACCUSATION. 


121 


all against me, and they elected Audley 
Norris.” 

“ Since then you have cherished an angry 
feeling against him ?” 

“ Oh, I didn’t care ; I never took any 
notice of such a boy — he’s too low.” 

Egbert said this with an affectation of 
contempt, which made me feel very sorry 
for him. He was a remarkably handsome, 
quick-witted boy, and his playmates had 
flattered a naturally conceited temper into 
a vain, tyrannical one. I understood now 
the motive of his organizing the club, which 
was to drive Batters out of all their plays, 
and I began to suspect that this selfish dis- 
like was unscrupulous enough to carry him 
beyond the truth. 

“ You went into Mr. Weston’s room to- 
day as a witness, Egbert,” I said with great 
seriousness. “ You had confessed that you 
knew nothing about the destruction of the 
Indian’s hut and the loss of your balls, and 
how then could you give any evidence in 
the matter?” 

“ Why, Miss Herbert, the boys told me 
they saw Batters hanging round, and Dicky 


122 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


Law says his big cousin, that works on the 
fort-road, knows he stole our balls and 
bats.” 

“ But that is not evidence ; no one should 
be a witness and pledge his word for any- 
thing he has not known or seen.” 

Egbert hung back and looked uncomfort- 
able; he did not enjoy this interview. 

“I want to warn you, my dear boy,” 1 
said kindly, “ that this is a serious business ; 
it involves the good name of a fellow-crea- 
ture, and if you are unjust or untrue you 
do him an injury you cannot easily repair. 
So I hope you will be very careful in what 
you say to Mr. Weston, as well as to the 
other boys. I may find it necessary to call 
your good father’s attention to the case.” 

At my last words Egbert changed color 
in a manner that was very apparent. He 
seemed really frightened, and even mur- 
mured an entreaty to the # effect that I would 
not trouble his father about the matter. 

“ He is so — so strict and — and cross,” 
faltered Egbert. “ I will not mention 
another word about Batters if you will 
please not speak to papa.” 


THE ACCUSATION. 


123 


I said “ Good-bye ” without promising 
anything. I had discovered that Master 
Egbert was a coward and that he knew 
he had not been doing right — two important 
facts in James’s case as it stood. 


CHAPTER IX. 

SURANO’S BOAT. 

“There ariseth light in the darkness.” — Ps. cxii. 4. 

J AMES was not at home. They knew 
nothing about him there, and supposed 
that he had been at school, as usual, all 
day. 

Kitty answered my inquiries, and I found 
her more subdued and thoughtful than she 
had seemed on my former visits. She had 
heard nothing of the difficulty at the school- 
house, and began to praise James in his new 
character. 

“ You have made a great change in our 
Jim, Miss Herbert. Even father notices it, 
and he seldom pays any attention to any- 
thing in the family. The neighbors say 
they guess you must have put a spell on 
him to keep him so good and quiet.” 

I told her it was not I who deserved the 


124 


SURANO’S BOAT. 


125 


praise — that the greater part of it was due 
to his own determination — but that Samuel 
McCook had been the one first to awaken 
a good feeling in his breast, and showed him 
an example which he had tried to follow. 

“ But Jim says it is you, Miss Herbert. 
He says you have showed the boys how to 
treat him, and that the first day you entered 
the school you stopped the abuse and insults 
he used to receive. You may give the cred- 
it to whom you please, but Jim gives it all 
to you.” 

I did not try to argue Kitty out of her 
mistake. It made me very happy to feel 
that James regarded me with affection, even 
if he overvalued the result of the interest I 
had always felt in him. My present object 
was to find him, however, and I asked Kitty 
if there was any place he was likely to go 
to besides Mr. Fayot’s green -house. 

“ Not in the afternoon. He does morning 
work for Mr. Parrish now, and that is what 
we all wonder at : he used to be the laziest 
creature that ever drew breath. Mother 
could not get him to bring an armful of 
wood or carry a bucket of water ; and now 


126 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


he is up long before any of us, and off at- 
tending to business. Even the turkeys no- 
tice it, for they used to run at the sight of 
him ; and now he feeds them to pay me for 
hearing him his lessons.” 

“ Is not your mother very glad to see him 
so good and industrious ?” 

“ Oh yes, she likes it well enough. But, 
you see, mother has got into a habit of scold- 
ing, because father leaves it all to her to do, 
unless he gets awful mad ; then he makes 
things fly. So she takes very little notice of 
what is being done till she gets through with 
her regular fretting. Jim has worried her 
into the habit, and she cannot get over it.” 

I asked Kitty if she thought James would 
be likely to go on the water again. 

“ Not he !” she cried, laughing. “ That 
was the biggest scare of his life ; he will not 
be in a hurry to try it again. He says he 
saw death looking at him just as if it had 
been a real thing with eyes, and it started 
him to praying for God^to have mercy on 
him. Mrs. Norris got him to tell her about 
that night, and she says it is something he 
ought never to forget.” 


SUBANO’S BOAT. 


127 


Mrs Finney liad been to the city making 
purchases, and now she appeared at the gate, 
tired and heated with her long walk. 

“ If Jim had been at the short cut to meet 
me I need not have been dragged to death,” 
she said, “ but Jim would rather work for a 
stranger than his own mother, any day.” 

“ Don’t be down on Jim, mother,” said 
Kitty. “ He knew nothing about your going 
to town, for he hasn’t been home yet. Here 
is Miss Herbert inquiring about him now.” 

“ He seems bent on working his life out, 
Miss Herbert,” said his mother, turning to 
me. “ He does not get home till dark any 
night, and then he learns his lessons till 
nearly bed-time. As for the morning, he is 
up and away before it is light, and I am sure 
I don’t know what the boy means by mak- 
ing such a slave of himself.” 

I said she must feel delighted at the bless- 
ed change that had taken place in his mind 
and habits. 

“ Oh, Jim was always a good boy, though 
sometimes he went a little wild,” she re- 
turned, apparently forgetting all about her 
late tirades against him ; “ but his father ob- 


128 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


jects to his slaving as he does, since it will 
not be long until we get our rights from the 
law, and then we will be as rich as our 
neighbors.” 

When I left the Finneys’ gate I was more 
than ever impressed in James’s favor. All 
I had heard served to convince me of the 
difficulties in the way of his being good, and 
to confirm the belief that he had conquered 
most of them. But when I reached Mr. 
Fayot’s, and found that he had not been 
there, and met Frank Blaine and Samuel 
returning from an unsuccessful search for 
him, I scarcely knew what to think. 

Frank said he believed he would be back 
in the morning, because it was only anger at 
Mr. Weston’s suspicions that had made him 
run away. 

“ He has been trying *to be a good boy, 
Miss Herbert,” he continued, “ and it makes 
him feel so badly to be unjustly accused.” 

I saw that both Frank and Samuel, how- 
ever depressed by appearances, firmly be- 
lieved in their friend’s innocence. So I 
said nothing to remind them of Terence’s 
story or my meeting him in the road that 


SURANO’S BOAT. 


129 


morning, and left them going over the sand- 
hills to where the hut of Chumbo had stood, 
to see if they could gain any clue to his hid- 
ing-place. 

Their hope and mine was doomed to disap- 
pointment. The morrow came and brought 
no tidings of either Chumbo or James. Mr. 
Weston showed me a paper addressed to 
James’s father, in which was written his 
son’s formal expulsion from school, and the 
causes were all set down in order. 

Egbert Hyde was his principal accuser, but 
all his club had subscribed to what he said 
against him. He was called riotous, malicious 
and not trustworthy, and proven to have 
been three times suspended for these faults. 
His presence in the school was stated to be 
decidedly detrimental to the morality and 
advancement of the rest of the boys. 

I begged the principal to allow me to keep 
this document until James’s return, saying 
that the last charge made against him had 
really not been proven. But Mr. Weston 
replied that his absenting himself was a ta- 
cit admission of guilt, as every opportunity to 
exonerate himself had been given him, and 

9 


130 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


that as hypocrisy was the only fault he had 
not practiced before, and he was just about 
to introduce it into his career, he considered 
it absolutely necessary to cut it short in the 
Laguna School. 

Of course I said that I was convinced 
James’s reformation was sincere, and gave 
every proof I could produce to uphold my 
assertion. But Mr. Weston only asked me 
to account for his late conduct, which I was 
totally unable to do; and then he said the 
boy had been acting a hypocritical part 
lately, and deceived me, and even Mr. Harris 
and his good family, by it. 

Still, I pleaded so hard that the dismission 
was not sent to Mr. Finney, and Mr. Weston 
promised to wait until I either saw or heard 
from James 

In the afternoon I noticed a dark-faced 
man with long black hair lounging round 
the yard and peeping into the window. 
Catching my eye, he retired in some con- 
fusion ; so I went out to speak to him, and 
found him rather anxious to avoid me, as he 
tried to get out of the gate before I could 
reach him. 


SUBANO'S BOAT. 


131 


Finding escape not practical, he turned 
round and said in Spanish that he “only 
wanted to see Batters, to give him his 
change.” 

Something in the man’s face seemed famil- 
iar to me, and when he smiled I saw that he 
was Juan Surano’s father, he looked so like 
Juan. 

“ James Finney is not in school,” I said. 
“I wish you could tell me where he is.” 

He looked surprised, and shook his head 
gravely : 

“ Maybe he go to find Chumbo ?” 

“ Do you know wdiere he went ?” 

“ No, no ; I sail in the boat, go catch fish, 
when bad boys blow up Chumbo’s house.” 

“ Do you sail in Silvio’s boat ?” 

“No, no; I buy a new boat — not very 
new, but very good. Captain Blaine tell me 
where to buy it. I work very hard to make 
money, and Batters pay me some.” 

I caught at this with great interest, and 
asked him when James had given him the 
money. He answered at once that he had 
come over the hills just after six o’clock 
the night of Chumbo’s disappearance ; that he 


132 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


was just going off to fish with Silvio, and so 
he had taken the money and put it in his 
wallet. The next morning he went to Cap- 
tain Blaine to ask advice on the subject of 
the boat, and, finding the good gentleman 
friendly, had told him all about James work- 
ing for money to pay the cost of the old one. 
The captain said the boy was an honest fel- 
low, and made Surano promise to give him 
back two dollars of the money, and used his 
influence to get him the boat cheap on con- 
dition that he did so. 

Juan told him that James was absent the 
day before, and he had come to-day expect- 
ing to find him at school, and that was why 
he peeped in the window. 

He was so anxious to get rid of the two 
dollars that he forced it on me to keep for 
James, explaining that he was going to get 
Captain Blaine’s wagon to carry home his 
boat from the boatyard, and that he wanted 
to say he had paid back the money to satisfy 
the captain. 

I asked him where Chumbo would be likely 
to go, and if he could guess who it was that 
destroyed his hut. 


SURANO’S BOAT. 


133 


He seemed to have no doubt on the latter 
point, and, nodding his head in the direction 
of the school-room, answered, “Your bad 
boys.” 

In regard to Cliumbo’s present place of 
concealment, he gave it as his opinion that 
the poor Indian was hiding somewhere in 
fear, as my “bad boys” made him very 
timid by their wicked tricks. 

At first I thought that I would go directly to 
Mr. Weston with this explanation of James’s 
presence in the neighborhood of Chumbo’s 
hut; but as I re-entered the school-room I 
detected Egbert Hyde and Richard Hunter 
whispering together with looks of anxiety, 
and even alarm. I therefore determined to 
keep my discovery until I had questioned 
these two boys alone. 

I called Richard to my desk as the rest 
were being dismissed, and kept him there 
until all were gone. Then I asked him if 
he knew that any of the boys had designs 
against Chumbo — if he had ever heard them 
say they meant to drive him off; and I 
looked at him steadily as I spoke, for I 
recalled the conversation I had overheard 


134 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


through the school- window the day the club 
was proposed. 

“No, ma’am,” said Richard, but he did 
not look at me. He fidgeted and kept his 
eyes wandering round the room, and at last 
muttered something about “ Egbert Hyde 
and the other boys.” 

“ Because, Richard,” I said, “ I overheard 
you say it would be fun to drive the poor 
Indian away, and I would rather you told 
me the truth about it of your own free will 
than to wait until it was found out and you 
were convicted of it.” 

He grew redder every moment, and kept 
repeating the names of the other boys and 
looking toward the playground where they 
were. 

“Will you answer me a question truly, 
Richard?” I asked seriously. 

“ Yes, ma’am,” he said with hesitation. 

“ Well, then, tell me : were you not at 
Chumbo’s hut the day it was blown up?” 

“No, indeed,” he replied eagerly — “no, 
indeed. I never went near it, and I can 
prove it, too.” 

He went on to recite with great volubility 


SURANO’S BOAT. 


135 


the number of places he had been, naming 
different boys who could give their words 
of honor that they saw him, etc. 

I was convinced from his manner that he 
was telling the truth — in words at least — 
but I by no means acquitted him of inten- 
tional reservation in the matter. 

Jenny Ware’s mother came into the 
school-room just then, and I sent Richard 
out. He seemed very glad to go, and Mrs. 
Ware told me she had come to inquire about 
James — that Jenny had heard from Sarah 
Crofton all the trouble that had occurred, 
and the poor child had become so restless 
and unhappy that she was forced to satisfy 
her by coming to see about it. 

She had another errand : Miss Esther 
Blaine had sent her a beautifully-orna- 
mented sponge-cake for Jenny’s birthday, 
which would be on the next day, and she 
desired to have me come and cut it for her. 
Sarah Crofton, Bessie Parrish and Effie 
Hyde were to be there too. The clergy- 
man’s granddaughters were to dress a little 
table with flowers, and make Jenny’s last 
birthday a pleasant one. 


136 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


Poor Mrs. Ware’s tears flowed freely as 
she spoke of her fading little daughter. 
She was sad, but not hopeless, for the dear 
child knew she would never see another 
birthday here, and looked forward hopeful- 
ly to the blessed home where they count not 
by years or months. 

She had grown very fond of James Finney 
since the day when he came to tell her 
mother she was not in fault for the injury 
Sarah Crofton had received, and to take 
upon himself the whole blame of that 
occurrence. 

“ She used to be so much afraid of him 
that she would not start for school when 
she saw him on the road,” said Mrs. Ware. 
“ She would run back all of a tremble, and 
hide her head inside the door till he had 
passed by. But now she is more interested 
in him than in any of the others, and since 
the trouble here she has been restless and 
unhappy. But oh, how she has prayed for 
him !” 

I told Mrs. Ware all I could of the favor- 
able view of the affair, and found her as 
much of an advocate for James as Jenny 


SURANO’S BOAT. 


137 


herself. She grew very much excited when 
I said I regretted that Mr. Weston looked 
on James’s late improvement as a piece of 
hypocrisy, and declared that he never did 
do the poor fellow justice since he had the 
misfortune to upset an inkstand over a 
yearly school-report and spoil it, giving the 
principal all the work of drafting another. 

“Any other boy would have said it was 
an accident, and begged his teacher’s pardon. 
But it was when Miss Gordon was here, and 
she thought James was the worst boy alive, 
and kept telling him so all the time, until 
I believe he tried to act up to it. Not a 
word would he say when the accident was 
found out, but just looked sullen and 
scowled. So Mr. Weston suspended him 
for malicious behavior. The neighbors suf- 
fered for it, for he took his revenge in just 
tormenting the whole valley.” 

“ Was there no one to take an interest in 
him, and find out the real truth of the 
matter ?” 

“ No ; he was such a disagreeable-looking 
boy that no one cared to meddle with him. 
Frank Blaine and he got into a quarrel one 


138 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


day, and Batters knocked Frank down. He 
is a weak boy, you know, and the fall stunned 
him, so that he appeared dead. This fright- 
ened Batters terribly. They were alone at 
the time, and Mrs. Blaine was alarmed to see 
her son carried into the house in the arms of 
his enemy in an insensible condition. After 
that he could not do enough to prove his sor- 
row for hurting him ; and then some of the 
valley-people began to see that he was not 
so fearfully wicked as he was represented. 
Frank did a great deal for him, but he is a 
delicate boy and half the time confined to 
the house from illness; so he could not be 
the constant friend that Samuel McCook 
and Audley Norris have lately proved.” 

Mrs. Ware had got upon an interesting 
subject, but she checked herself here, and 
said she must hurry back to Jenny, as Bes- 
sie Parrish, who was staying with her, would 
be tired of waiting. 

She took some flowers from the little plot 
that Samuel still faithfully attended for his 
absent friend, and said Jenny would love to 
see something from the dear old playground, 
where she could never come again. The 


SUBANO’S BOAT. 


139 


ready tears gathered in her eyes at the 
thought, but the faith that sustained her 
lifted them to the pure blue sky of evening, 
and she smiled ; for she knew Jenny's future 
home would be better and brighter than the 
poor one she left behind. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE CONSPIRACY. 

“All thy children shall be taught of the Lord.” — IsA. 
liv. 13. 

M R. HARRIS came to the school next 
day, for the first time since I had been 
there. He appeared to have merely called 
as a visitor, but I felt convinced that his 
coming had another object. 

He spoke to the scholars in his kind, 
fatherly way, noting the improvement he 
saw in many cases, and encouraging and 
commending them in all good progress. 

Then, becoming more serious, he alluded 
to their responsibilities toward each other, 
even in the simplest affairs of life. He spoke 
of the playground as a field of truth and 
honor or a scene of duplicity and unkind- 
ness, and made it a much more serious thing 
to be unjust or cruel, “only in fun,” than 

140 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


141 


our boys had ever thought it. I saw that 
the earnestness with which he spoke and the 
pointed manner in which he addressed them 
had a decided effect on the members of the 
Laguna Club. Even a casual observer could 
have separated the boys who belonged to that 
body from those who did not, by the way in 
which they received the minister’s remarks. 
Every one of them knew and respected Mr. 
Harris, and all listened to his words with at- 
tention. But there was a personal applica- 
tion to some that caused them to feel and 
appear uneasy and depressed ; and this was 
as it should be. 

Suddenly he changed from an exhortation 
to truth and justice in spite of cowardice and 
false shame, and began to tell them about 
dear little Jenny Ware’s fading life, and 
how beautifully it was going out in peace 
and faith. 

She had been a good and innocent little 
girl, not remarkable in any way for superior 
brightness or merit in school, but now that 
she had come down to the gates of death to 
learn, by pain and fear, the way to a saving 
and delivering Lord, she shone with the su- 


142 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


perior wisdom that only such experience can 
bestow, and to be with her was to learn of 
Jesus and his love for children’s souls. 

Mr. Harris’s object was to impress the 
minds of his hearers with the necessity of 
living well that they might die well, and his 
description of a sick bed, where the actions of 
a thoughtless life pass in review before dying 
eyes, was so true and real that Sarah Crof- 
ton’s cheeks were wet with tears, and she 
whispered to me as I stood near her, “Oh, 
Miss Herbert, I mean to try and be good ; I 
do, indeed.” 

The clergyman’s eye was on our clock ; 
when the hour of dismission came he closed, 
and I saw with satisfaction that he had made 
a very deep impression on those he particu- 
larly meant to reach. 

He remained behind to give me his reason 
for speaking as he had done. “I am con- 
vinced that Edward Morley and the Hun- 
ters know something of this,” he said; “and 
I think the best way is to induce them to 
speak from the pricking of their consciences. 
Last night Eichard Hunter and Edward 
walked past my study- window two or three 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


143 


times in earnest conversation, and my daugh- 
ter heard them say they had rather be turn- 
ed out of school themselves than feel as they 
would if Batters should be expelled. James 
Finney’s father has lost his title-suit against 
the Morleys, and he is consequently in a 
very unreasonable and bitter temper. He 
has been to me, and threatens loudly about 
his son being persecuted and driven away 
by a combination of the aristocratic schol- 
ars; and it was to save you and Mr. Weston 
trouble by proving that there was no truth 
in the accusation that first roused my atten- 
tion to the affair. Of course I would have 
been anxious for the boy’s welfare, but I 
thought he was off on one of his usual ad- 
ventures, and knew nothing about his being 
accused as the perpetrator of such a serious 
misdemeanor.” 

I asked him what he meant to do in regard 
to the two boys. 

“ Wait,” he said — “ watch them closely, and 
wait till I see some further developments. I 
hope to hear from one or the other to-night, 
and they shall not have far to go to find me.” 

He talked further about James’s and the 


144 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


Indian’s disappearance, but as we could only 
surmise the cause we came back to Jenny 
and her birthday. The child was dying of 
consumption in a slow and almost painless 
way, her chief difficulty being attacks of 
weakness and sinking that at times simula- 
ted death. Her mother’s poverty had been 
greatly relieved by the kindness of her 
church friends, and the attentions of the 
scholars to Jenny enabled Mrs. Ware to 
work at the sewing Mrs. McBride continued 
to share with her. At the little gathering 
the next day Mr. Harris was to be present 
and preside, but he did not consider it ne- 
cessary to make it an occasion of gloom or 
sorrow. He thought the young should be 
reminded that death did not always seek 
the aged ; but he believed that it could be 
better done by raising their thoughts heav- 
enward than by lowering them into the 
gloom of the grave. 

Whilst we were still conversing Effie 
Hyde ran in with a flushed and excited face. 
She did not see Mr. Harris, but came up to 
me in a breathless state, exclaiming, “Oh, 
dear Miss Herbert, we have found out who 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


145 


fired poor Chumbo’s but and caused all the 
trouble. It was Peter Piker, the soldier who 
stays at the arsenal. He is drunk now, 
and he acts dreadfully, but I am sure' he is 
sober enough to tell the truth, and he looks 
as if he knew what he was saying.” 

“ Where is he ?” asked the minister ; and 
Effie, who was at first startled to find that 
he was a witness of her excitement, gladly 
seized on his presence as an aid to discovery. 

“Oh, if you would only come with me, 
sir,” she cried, “ you could make him tell you 
everything. He says now that he did it to 
oblige some boys who were wicked enough 
to pay him for it. But he does not tell their 
names ; only he says — -just think, Miss Her- 
bert, how cruel it was of them ! — that they 
wanted the blame to fall on James Finney, 
so as to get him turned out of school.” 

Then, remembering the minister’s ques- 
tion, she told us that the soldier was “just 
out there,” pointing to a clump of trees 
bordering the road ; and Mr. Harris, taking 
up his hat, begged me to wait his return. 

He came back presently, followed by a 
stupid, swaying sort of figure which I recog- 
10 


146 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


nized as that of a soldier I had seen at Colo- 
nel Hyde’s sometimes in passing. 

Mr. Harris’s very grave manner had part- 
ly sobered him, but he looked confused and 
muttered some inarticulate words about “ not 
intruding on a lady,” and begged that no 
harm should come out of “a bit of fun.” 

“ This man tells me that he was hired by 
a party of the Laguna boys to wile Chumbo 
away from his hut on some pretence or other, 
and then to strew gunpowder around inside 
and set fire to it, they promising him that 
the blame should rest on James Finney, who 
was an outlaw and a disgrace to the school, 
whose interests would be served by thus 
getting rid of him.” 

“You see,” broke in Hiker with an un- 
steady bow, “ I was out of sorts on account 
of losing nearly all my month’s pay because 
of a little row I had with a comrade, and 
Master Egbert gave me a good big drink 
to start me, which made me feel bold as 
a Turk, and I agreed to do anything they 
would ask of me.” 

“ Egbert ?” said Effie in a tone of wonder 
— “not our Egbert?” 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


147 


“ Yes, indeed, Miss Effie ; he was the one 
that made the bargain, and the Hunters and 
Master Ned Morley and all the rest joined 
in. They were to pay me five dollars for 
my trouble just as soon as the job was done. 
But when I went down to get the money 
they pretended they never sent me to do it ; 
and so this morning I climbed the fence 
here and took off their balls and bats to 
pay them for deceiving me.” 

“Oh, Peter, do not say my brother told 
you to do such a wicked thing !” moaned 
little Effie in great distress. 

“ I will swear to it if you do not believe 
me,” persisted the soldier. — “And now he 
will not speak to me, but threatens to re- 
port me to his father. So I take the matter 
beforehand and report myself.” 

I had earnestly longed to clear my accused 
scholar of the cloud that rested on him, but 
when I saw the poor sister’s grief at discov- 
ering her brother’s wickedness I could not 
rejoice. My heart was sore with sorrow for 
the dear, good child, so bowed with the 
knowledge of a wrong she had never sus- 
pected. 


148 


CRUMB O f S BUT. 


“You must go with me to your officer, 
Peter, and make this statement in his pres- 
ence, and produce what proofs you can of 
its truth,” said Mr. Harris. 

Either his drunken state prevented his 
realizing the position in which he placed 
himself, or else his desire to punish Egbert 
was stronger than his fears for himself, for 
he seemed very eager to go. 

As soon as Effie and I were left alone 
together I attempted to console her, though 
I really did not know how to do it. 

She controlled her weeping with more 
courage than I could have expected from 
such a gentle little creature, and said, 
“Please come to our house, Miss Herbert. 
I want to see Egbert, and if he really did 
such a dreadful, dreadful thing I want to 
give him an opportunity to repent and bear 
his punishment as he should. Oh, it seems 
too shocking, that my brother should try 
to injure a poor Indian, and get an inno- 
cent boy blamed for it!” 

As we went out of the door I saw a bun- 
dle of bats and a coarse canvas bag filled 
with balls lying there. Peter had evidently 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


149 


brought them back, and we locked them in 
the school-closet. 

Egbert Hyde and Edward Morley stood 
at the garden-gate; they were talking to- 
gether, with signs of perturbation on their 
countenances, but they separated just as we 
came up. 

“ Stop, Edward,” I said as he was moving 
off; “I have news for you: I have found 
your balls and bats.” 

“ Did Batters come back, Miss Herbert ?” 
he cried, getting excited. 

“ No ; it was Peter Biker, the soldier 
from the arsenal, who brought them to the 
school.” 

The boys exchanged rapid glances and 
grew very pale, but neither of them spoke. 

I was determined to force them into a 
confession if they were guilty; so I contin- 
ued : “ He has gone to his captain’s quarters 
with Mr. Harris to make a statement that 
will clear the mystery of the burning of 
Chumbo’s hut and take suspicion off James 
Finney.” 

Not a word did Egbert utter. His face 
changed from dead white to scarlet, then it 


150 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


grew ghastly with fear again, but his lips 
never opened, and poor Effie, who watched 
him with intense eagerness, burst into a 
torrent of disappointed tears. 

Edward Morley had from the first stood 
a picture of distress and uncertainty. He 
cast imploring looks at Egbert, and then 
tried to speak, but his tongue seemed to 
refuse obedience to his will. At length he 
broke out, just as Effie gave way to tears, 
saying passionately, “ I don’t care if you 
do call me a sneak, Egbert Hyde ; I am 
not going to tell on any one but myself, and 
I don’t want to bring any one else into 
trouble. — Dick Hunter and I went in for 
fun, and so did the other boys, but ever 
since we had to sign that paper in Mr. 
Weston’s room we have felt that it was 
a serious business, and we have been sick 
of it. We tried to see Mr. Harris last 
night, and we meant to take the whole 
blame on ourselves, and when he talked 
to us in school to-day we could scarcely 
sit still in our seats. Now I have heard 
that Peter Biker’s going to tell the truth, 
I mean to tell it too. I want to be pun- 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


151 


ished ; I am willing to bear it, and I hope 
I will get it; for I told Peter to blow up 
Chumbo’s house, and I meant to let the 
blame fall on Batters. But I really did 
think he stole our balls and things.” 

“Now you have done it!” cried Egbert, 
with an attempt at a sneer. But he was too 
much afraid and too miserable to carry out 
his air of bravado, and so he broke down 
with a groan and a sort of howl that any 
one who thinks it “ good fun ” to try to in- 
jure another should have heard. 

Colonel Hyde appeared at his hall-door, 
and seemed greatly surprised at the scene 
being enacted in his garden. 

He begged me to walk in, but I felt that 
his dear little daughter could better explain 
the painful circumstances to him alone. I 
therefore took my leave as quickly as I 
could, drawing Edward Morley with me. 

When we were clear of the house I told 
him he had made a late acknowledgment 
of a great wrong, but that it was better than 
none, and that it was now his duty to do all 
in his power to repair the injury he had 
helped to inflict. 


152 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


“ Some one,” I said, “ must see Mr. Wes- 
ton and make the matter clear to him. If I 
had been mixed up in such a wretched busi- 
ness, I would rather make any humiliating 
confession than increase the sin by longer 
concealment.” 

“ Yes, ma’am ; but I don’t like to go and 
tell him when the other boys are away. The 
Hunters and Harry Crofton and some of the 
rest started as soon as school was out, and 
they said they would find Batters and bring 
him back, and make him all right, if they 
could. The moment they come back we will 
go together.” 

“ I am glad that conscience has something 
to do with righting the wrong,” I said fer- 
vently, “ and I trust in God that it will be 
the means of keeping such disgraceful occur- 
rences out of our school-history in future.” 


CHAPTEK XI. 

JENNY’S BIRTHDAY. 

“ So teach us to number our days.” — Ps. xc. 12. 

T HE next day being Friday, our dismission- 
hour came earlier than usual, and I had 
promised Mrs. Ware to go directly from the 
school to her house. It was a busy day too, 
as it was our custom to review our weekly 
lessons in the forenoon, and in the short 
afternoon session to distribute reports and 
enjoy reading exercises. 

Effie Hyde’s seat was vacant, and so was 
her brother’s, but all the other club-boys 
were present. I found a note on my desk 
from Mr. Weston, saying that from disclo- 
sures made to him late the evening before he 
had found reason to change his opinion of 
James Finney, and he should therefore take 
an early opportunity to establish the boy’s 

153 


154 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


character in a different light in the presence 
of his schoolmates. 

Harry Crofton had something of his sister’s 
excitability of temperament, and found it 
impossible to wait until the time for recess 
to communicate something that kept his 
eyes dilating and his face twitching to dis- 
close. “Teacher, Batters was out at the 
Mission taking care of Chumbo, who got 
hurt when his hut was burnt,” he said in 
a sudden burst of confidence that upset in- 
terest in the lesson and the discipline of the 
class. 

“ Who told you ?” “ Where is he ?” 

“Who found him?” were questions asked 
all at once. Finding it impossible to con- 
trol the feeling that prompted them until it 
as well as my own strong interest was satis- 
fied, I begged Harry to tell what he knew 
of the matter. 

“Colonel Hyde found him,” said Harry. 
“ He had been away from home, and did not 
know about Batters being lost until Egbert 
told him. Then he got a horse and rode to 
the Mission, where an Indian doctor lived ; 
for he said Chumbo would go to him if he 


JENNY’S BIRTHDAY. 


155 


was in trouble, and he felt certain that Bat- 
ters had gone to search for Chumbo. The 
Indian doctor had gone to Mariposa to get 
herbs, but his house was there, and he found 
Chumbo in it, lying very sick, and Batters 
waiting on him with all the kindness he 
could.” 

Harry made a pause here, and looked 
round on the boys with an uncomfortable 
sort of hesitation before beginning again. 
Edward Morley, with a broken voice and a 
changing color, gave him leave to “ Go right 
on and tell the whole of it.” Then he con- 
tinued : “ Chumbo was in the hut asleep, 
though every one thought he was out in the 
tule. So he got burnt and hurt, and fright- 
ened nearly to death. He told Colonel Hyde 
that he thought it was the bad Spirit come 
after him, and he wanted a charm to keep 
him off. He therefore went all the way to 
the medicine-man, as he calls the doctor at 
the Mission. When he arrived there and 
found him gone, his burns were so dreadful 
that he could not bear them, and he just lay 
down in the soft mud of the Mission Creek, 
where Batters found him.” 


156 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


This was all the information Harry could 
give. But it was sufficient to create a strong 
feeling in the school, and I am sure that 
every boy who had started and carried out 
the plan of driving off the harmless old 
Indian was heartily ashamed of the act, and 
anxious to prove his sorrow by any personal 
act of penance or self-sacrifice that could be 
suggested to him. 

There was one thing I was very glad to 
know also, and that was, that although Eg- 
bert Hyde was their leader and the only one 
of them who cherished anything more than 
a general dislike and objection to James 
Finney as a vulgar and unattractive boy, 
still, none of them made any effort to take 
shelter behind his deeper fault or attribute 
the blame of their wrong-doing to his evil 
example or persuasions. 

They were thoughtless lads, rather than 
wicked ones, and the consequences of their 
foolish combination so far surpassed the feel- 
ing that prompted it that they were com- 
pletely humbled by remorse and alarm. 

Samuel McCook and Audley Norris pleased 
me greatly by their course toward the fallen 


JENNY’S BIRTHDAY. 


157 


party. Not an exultant look nor a taunting 
word did they or their followers offer, though 
they had received many while they were 
hopelessly supporting poor James's cause 
and everything seemed against it. 

Terry Law and his boys had remained 
perfectly neutral, except Terry's own com- 
pulsory evidence, which the elder Surano 
had explained, and which Terry appeared 
very happy to know was thus rendered in 
James's favor. The effect of what had been 
told in the school was first observable in him 
that afternoon in the playground. I stood 
by the window and overheard some of the 
boys shout, “ Come on, Captain Terry, and 
start the game, or the club-boys will get 
ahead of us." 

He was talking to Edward Morley, and 
the two boys came down the yard together. 

“We are done trying to put on airs about 
such things," said Edward, “and I have 
asked Terry to join in our game.” 

“ I am willing, and I'm not any boy's cap- 
tain any more,” said Terry ; “ let every one 
do right and play fair, and we will all be 
equal. There was too much jealousy of each 


158 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


other in the Laguna School; that is what 
made the trouble.” 

Having arrived at this conclusion, they 
joined in a game together, and apparently 
enjoyed very greatly their coalition. 

I did not know what Mr. Weston’s course 
toward the boys engaged in “ the plot ” would 
be, but I felt that any interference on my 
part would seem out of place, as he had un- 
dertaken to punish the offenders against the 
peace and good order of the school, whoever 
they might prove to be. He did not come 
into my room that day, and not an effort was 
made to impose any greater correction on the 
offenders than the consciousness of their own 
fault, which had the effect of keeping them 
quite subdued and quiet. 

I feared the pleasure of our meeting at 
little Jenny’s bedside would be marred by 
Effie Hyde’s absence. But she was there 
when I arrived, and said she had suffered 
with a headache all the morning, or she 
would have been at school as usual. She 
was naturally such a bright-spirited, happy 
creature that any shadow showed itself 
plainly on her sunny face. Still, she was 


JENNY’S BIRTHDAY. 


159 


not so sad as I had dreaded to find her, 
and she alluded to her brother in a grave, 
quiet way that proved to me his faults had 
been under careful family examination. 

“Papa wants to see you about Egbert, 
Miss Herbert,” she said. “He hopes he 
can induce you to forgive him and give 
him an opportunity to regain what he has 
lost.” 

Seeing that I looked toward Jenny, she 
added, “Jenny knows about it. It was 
not fair to let her have any doubts about 
James, who has given her his promise that 
he will try to become a Christian, so as to 
meet her in heaven.” 

“I think Egbert will be a better boy 
after this,” said Jenny with her sweet, 
wise smile. “ It seems to me that we can 
all go sliding along smoothly in the wrong 
way, and never think where we are going 
or what the end will be. But when we 
are stopped in some sudden manner it sets 
us thinking and frightens us, as that fall 
into the bay at night did poor James. He 
says he could only have been in the water 
a minute or two, but he cannot tell all the 


160 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


thoughts he had; they crowded themselves 
into his mind so quickly that it seemed as 
if he had lived a year in the very jaws of 
death.” 

“ Jenny believes that everybody will get 
good by and by,” said Effie, smiling ; “ she 
never despairs at all.” 

“ How could I, with such a ready Saviour 
and such unmeasured love?” said Jenny. 
“It only seems like yesterday that I used 
to be playing over there under the trees, 
and never thinking at all about anything 
but the day's work or fun. I hated James 
Finney then, and I did not believe a boy 
with such an ugly face could ever get to 
heaven if he tried ; and I thought Effie 
Hyde could easily be an angel, because her 
hair was so long and shining. Now I think 
so differently ! It seems as if the months 
on this bed had been years and years, and 
I know now that God loves James, and 
sent his Son to die for him just as much 
as for the handsomest prince in the world, 
and that such boys as he was make joy in 
heaven when they repent.” 

, “ But I don't believe Batters is just as 


JENNY’S BIRTHDAY. 


161 


good as he can be yet, for he gets angry. 
He became angry and ran out of school 
when Mr. Weston accused him of doing 
wrong,” said Sarah Crofton, with a wisely 
dubious air. 

“ He will have to keep getting better and 
better, and repent over every wrong thing 
he does,” said Jenny. “St. Peter repented 
after he had denied our Lord, and he was 
forgiven too.” 

“ I will tell our Egbert of that,” said 
Effie eagerly. “ He is beginning to be 
good, I know, for he is very wretched, and 
says there is no use of his trying to be any 
better, since he is the worst boy that ever 
lived in the world.” 

“ Mr. Harris will tell him who died for 
the chief of sinners, and make him under- 
stand it hopefully,” said Jenny with anima- 
tion. “ How beautiful it is to give hope and 
comfort to people’s souls when their bodies 
are wasting away and forsaking them !” 

She lifted her thin little hands and smiled 
at their shadowy outline. Her near ap- 
proach to death seemed to give her no un- 
easiness. “ Perfect love casteth out fear.” 


11 


162 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


The arrival of Miss Esther Blaine and 
the most of the girls of her class was soon 
followed by the appearance of the clergy- 
man and his daughter. Mrs. Ware’s cottage 
was nearly full of guests, and their gifts 
were all such as could be appreciated by 
the good woman. Pretty flowers and delicate 
fruits were spread before the invalid. Just 
as Mr. Harris was about to offer up a prayer 
of thanks and praise James Finney appeared 
in the doorway ; Mr. Weston came with him. 

The principal apologized for what he 
feared might seem an intrusion, but he said 
he had been very anxious to see the sick 
scholar; and calling on James, and finding 
him inclined to go, they had concluded to 
come together ; so here they were. 

James had lost some of his ruddy color, 
and his face had gained a gentler look than 
it had seemed capable of expressing on my 
first knowledge of him. His clothing was 
neat, and of a much better style and quality 
than his usual dress. This was owing, as I 
may as well explain here, to Colonel Hyde’s 
generosity and sorrow for his son’s misdeeds 
taking that expression to begin with. 



Jennie’s Birthday. 


Page 162. 




t 






























JENNY’S BIRTHDAY. 


163 


“ I have asked James to pardon my unjust 
suspicions, and offered him my hand in 
friendship for the future,” said Mr. Weston 
with warmth and frankness. 

James was not yet sufficiently at ease to 
express himself as he felt. . Still, he said he 
was obliged to him, and gave an almost 
inaudible pledge to do his duty in the fu- 
ture. As soon as Jenny stretched her hands 
out to him he ran to her side with a happy 
smile that lighted his plain face and made it 
almost comely. 

She began to question him eagerly, and 
from his replies we learned that he had been 
overwhelmed by the weight of evidence that 
appeared against him, and was utterly un- 
able to stand up and face it without some 
defence. He knew that he had been seen at 
the Indian’s hut that evening, and that I 
had met him very early in the morning on 
the road. 

I interrupted him to ask why he had not 
instantly explained the circumstance. 

“ Nobody would have believed me : Mr. 
Weston was down on me anyhow, and he 
would have called it hypocrisy.” 


164 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


“ There, my boy ! we will begin on a new 
page,” said the teacher. “ You have shown 
me that you can reform, though I said you 
could not, and I am ready to believe you for 
the future.” 

“ But where were you going with the bun- 
dle, James?” I asked. 

“It was a package of newspapers, Miss 
Herbert. When you told me I ought to 
work for money to pay Michael Surano for 
his boat, I went to Mr. Parrish and asked 
him if he would let me carry ’round papers 
for him. He had no place for me then, but 
the next week he sprained his ankle, and 
then he took me to help him. The morning 
I met you I had to go out to his house for 
the key of his store, which he had forgotten, 
and he made me promise I would not stop or 
speak to a soul till I got back, he was in such 
a hurry for it.” 

James then proceeded with his story by 
saying that he had been sure that Chumbo 
had carried off the boys’ balls, to be re- 
venged for the loss of his hut; and so he 
went straight after him to get them and 
make the Indian acknowledge the theft. 


JENNY’S BIRTHDAY. 


165 


He sought him in the tule about half a mile 
below the school, where he knew he had a 
favorite haunt. Not finding him there, he 
was about to return and brave his fate when 
he remembered To-ke-no-chim, the medicine 
Indian at the Mission, where Chumbo had 
said he would go to be cured of his pain. 

Arrived there, he saw the miserable Dig- 
ger stretched in the creek mud, suffering 
from burns and bruises; and so he stayed 
to nurse him till Colonel Hyde’s kindness 
moved Chumbo to better quarters and 
gained for him a surgeon’s care. 

Mr. Harris had listened most attentively 
to this account, and now, at Jenny’s request, 
he prayed with a thankful heart, and we all 
joined him to bless the dear Father who will 
not quench smoking flax, but fans it till it 
glows in a flame of true heavenly grace. 

We were not very merry, but we were 
a happy and deeply-interested and grateful 
party ; and Jenny smiled on us all till her 
watchful mother detected signs of weariness 
on her sweet face. Then we bade her good- 
bye and parted, well satisfied with our after- 
noon and its events. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE END OF THE TERM. 

“ He that humbleth himself shall be exalted.” — L uke 
xviii. 14. 

O UR summer term would close in the mid- 
dle of the following week, and somehow 
I scarcely expected to see the leader of the 
Laguna Club back in his place on Monday. 
I was therefore somewhat surprised to find 
Colonel Hyde and his son waiting for me 
when I entered the school-room. Egbert 
looked like a boy who had passed through a 
serious experience in the interval that had 
elapsed since I saw him in his own garden. 
He was no hero, and I suspected that fear of 
the consequences entailed by his evil actions 
had a good deal to do with his depression. 
At the same time, the shock of detection and 
exposure had certainly awakened his dormant 
conscience and caused him to feel both re- 
morse and shame. 


166 


THE END OF THE TERM . 


167 


“ My son has come to plead for the privi- 
lege of remaining in the Laguua School, that 
he may try and retrieve his character, Miss 
Herbert,” said the colonel gravely. “ He is 
too thoroughly ashamed to be able to express 
himself very clearly just yet, but I know he 
is humbly anxious to gain your forgiveness 
too, if he can.” 

Egbert raised his eyes covertly to my face 
at this, but dropped them instantly and mur- 
mured something about not deserving to be 
forgiven. 

I think the best lesson ever given us on 
the subject of forgiveness is the example of 
the Prodigal’s father, who saw his son afar 
off and ran to meet him, and fell on his 
neck. Therefore I was not slow to respond 
to even these faint words. But my as- 
surance only seemed to increase Egbert’s 
wretchedness. He dropped into his seat 
and covered his face with his hands in a 
hopeless, heartsick manner. 

“ I do not know from which my son suffers 
most, his throes of pride or stings of con- 
science, but I am determined that justice 
shall be done in either case, and that he 


168 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


shall acknowledge, in the presence of those 
schoolmates who heard James Finney ac- 
cused of destroying the Indian’s hut, that 
he was the prompter of that malicious act, 
and that he could, by speaking out and con- 
fessing the sin, have spared the innocent boy 
much suffering and the teachers great un- 
easiness and some unjust conclusions.” 

Egbert seemed to writhe under the neces- 
sity of this public reparation. But his fa- 
ther’s authority was not to be disputed. As 
soon as the scholars had taken their seats the 
colonel asked their attention to what his son 
had to say to them. 

The boy’s struggle was pitiable. His for- 
mer pride of position, and the almost tyranni- 
cal exactions he had demanded of the rest, 
made this humiliation doubly painful. I 
saw that he had endured a home-struggle 
and conquered the evil in his nature so far 
as to bow his spirit before God and his 
family ; but the tempter’s voice was whisper- 
ing to him now, and the same evil counsel 
that had led him to act a lie still endeavored 
to withhold him from speaking the truth. 

But there was a better element in Egbert, 


THE END OF THE TERM. 


169 


that asserted itself after lying dormant so 
long. His face wrought painfully, and his 
varying color fled in the effort, but it tri- 
umphed at last, and he broke out in a des- 
perate sort of way : “ Boys, I am ashamed 
of behaving as I did to Jim Finney. It 
was a mean, bad feeling that made me call 
him a disgrace to the school, in place of 
trying to make him a credit to it, as Sam 
McCook and Frank and Audley have done. 
If you all turn against me and never speak 
to me again, I will not blame you, for I 
think I deserve it.” Then he told them 
what most of them already knew, about his 
share in the destruction of the hut. 

There was a murmur among the club-boys, 
and Bichard Hunter and his brother half 
rose, as if to speak, when Edward Morley 
jumped up and said he would not let Egbert 
Hyde bear the blame alone, and declared that 
he was just as guilty himself. 

“ And so am I,” cried Harry Crofton ; “ I 
used to call names after Batters.” 

“ And I too,” called out a dozen voices. 

“You have come before a merciful jury, 
Egbert,” said his father. “ Your teacher re- 


170 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


ceives her erring scholar with affectionate 
words of counsel and encouragement, and 
your schoolmates strive to lessen and share 
your blame. It only remains for you to beg 
the great Judge whom you have most offend- 
ed to forgive you, and to give you strength 
and wisdom to walk in a better way in 
future.” 

Just at that moment James came in. Mr. 
Weston had given him permission to be a 
little late on account of his serving the pa- 
pers for Mr. Parrish, who had, on his return, 
entered into a regular weekly agreement with 
him for morning-work. 

Colonel Hyde took his hand, and said in 
the presence of all the boys that he hoped to 
see him live to be a credit to the school and 
the neighborhood, and told him that he had 
acted with positive magnanimity toward his 
son in the unpleasant circumstances that had 
just transpired. Then the father took his 
leave, and I called the school to order, with- 
out adding a word to weaken the impression 
already made. 

There were but two more school-days dur- 
ing that term, and they were spent, as I had 


THE END OF THE TERM. 


171 


scarcely hoped to find the Laguna scholars 
capable of living, in perfect harmony. No 
word passed between James Finney and Eg- 
bert Hyde. Whether they purposely avoided 
each other or not, they did not come in con- 
tact. Indeed, James seemed to have awakened 
suddenly to a serious determination to study, 
which occupied him too completely to admit 
of much companionship. He stayed in the 
school-room at recess to ask me to mark 
lessons for the holidays, as he was anxious 
to go into the senior class at the next exam- 
ination. 

The rest of the boys seemed to follow his 
example ; consequently, there was no gossip- 
ing nor dispute about what had happened, 
and a safe silence was preserved over the past 
on all sides. Mr. Weston was the only one 
to break it. He made a long speech to the 
scholars, detailing his past difficulties and 
the causes of his despondency in regard to 
the unity and progress of the school. He re- 
called so much that was painfully true that 
I was afraid James’s scowl would return. 
But after this gloomy retrospect he emerged 
into a more hopeful vein, and declared that 


172 


CHUMJBO’S HUT 


he fully believed the institution to have 
entered on a new career, and that brighter 
days and happier results were before it. 

I cannot quite remember to what causes 
Mr. Weston attributed these promising ap- 
pearances — whether he viewed them as the 
results of his long and arduous efforts, or 
ascribed them to the effect of the develop- 
ment of circumstances. But I know that he 
seemed to rejoice, as we all did, and when he 
concluded by saying that he wiped off all 
recollections of the late misdemeanors on 
the part of lads who had shown an honor- 
able spirit of penitence, there was not a cloud 
on the whole school. 

When the closing day came we were all 
in great good-humor. As most young people 
love music and declamation, we had deter- 
mined to give the afternoon session entirely 
to those exercises. There were a number of 
visitors present, and the singing and playing 
were really excellent. Effie asked me to 
have the windows opened that looked out on 
the green lying between Mrs. Ware’s cottage 
and the school-house, hoping that the sweet 
sounds might reach Jenny’s window. 


THE END OF THE TEEM. 


173 


Many of the boys really excelled in elocu- 
tion, and yet not one of them allowed a smile 
to appear when James Finney for the first 
time read aloud a piece he had studied care- 
fully with evident pride in his execution. 

He had just concluded his rather labori- 
ously-rendered poem, and Edward Morley 
had generously started a warm applause, 
when his little sister Nelly came running in 
at the door, dirty, uncombed and miserably 
clad. She held a great flapping sun-bonnet 
back to allow her to see the way to her 
brother, and, suddenly descrying him as he 
was about to descend from the platform, she 
rushed toward him, crying out, 

“ Oh, Jimmy, come home as fast as you 
can. The men brought pappy home, and he 
is dead, and mother is screaming.” 

The other sister, Jane, had performed a 
like errand for poor Kitty, who, before her 
brother could fully understand the dread- 
ful tidings, came dashing in, regardless of 
school-rules or the presence of strangers, 
and screaming piteously, “ Oh Jim ! Jim ! 
father’s dead ; somebody has killed him, and 
it must have been in a fight about the title.” 


174 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


James Finney was over fourteen years of 
age, and in some things quite mature for his 
years, although in others — his school-educa- 
tion, for instance — he had made but little 
progress. But of late I had noticed a deci- 
ded manliness about him, and it became 
creditably apparent when he recovered from 
the first shock of this unlooked-for blow. 
He stood for a moment as if quite stunned. 
Then he drew a long breath, the color for- 
sook his cheeks and his eyes became suffused 
with tears. He took his little sister’s hand 
and drew her to his side, quieting her in 
whispers, and addressed a few words to 
Kitty in the same low tone, which had the 
effect of subduing her transports of grief. 

“ May I go home at once, Miss Herbert ?” 
he asked, turning to me. 

“ Of course, James, and I sincerely hope 
you will find Kelly has exaggerated the 
case in her fear and excitement.” 

He did not reply, beyond a hopeless shake 
of the head, but he tried to quiet his two 
sisters, and drew them to his side in a pro- 
tecting way, like one who felt it his duty to 
sustain and comfort them. He went out, 


THE END OF THE TERM. 


175 


leaving us all impressed by the self-control 
and good sense his manner displayed. 

Captain Blaine was one of our visitors, 
and he and Mr. Morley, after a word or 
two together, offered to go at once to the 
Finneys and see the extent of their mis- 
fortune, and what could be done for the 
family. 

Captain Blaine was their nearest neighbor, 
and a proverbially kind-hearted and gener- 
ous man. Mr. Morley had been forced into 
law with the Finneys, owing to Mr. Finney’s 
passion for contesting land-titles, and the 
unfortunate man chose to look on him as 
his enemy because he had made him his 
antagonist. 

Both gentlemen considered this a proper 
time to do away with all such impressions. 
They therefore made haste to offer their 
services in this day of need. 

The consternation created by the Finney 
children was too great to admit of a quiet 
resuming of our exercises. The people 
dwelling in the vicinity of the laguna 
formed a little community of themselves, 
and their interests were strongly personal. 


176 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


Mr. Finney had not been a popular mem- 
ber, but his children were growing up in 
their midst, and every one felt concerned 
for the fate of the family. 

After a few words of injunction to the 
scholars to refrain from annoying the family 
by surrounding the house to gratify their 
curiosity, the reports were distributed, the 
lesson-prizes awarded, and the school quietly 
dismissed, the term ending with a very dif- 
ferent climax for the Finney family from 
any we had expected. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

AFFLICTION AND HELP. 

“ Call upon me in the day of trouble.” — Ps. 1. 15. 

P OOH little Nelly had been right in her 
report. Her father was indeed no more. 
But his death was referable to his own un- 
wise habits, and not to any violence. He 
had been a pioneer in the land of gold, and, 
like many others, had wasted good oppor- 
tunities in waiting for better ; so that when 
at last he sent for his family to join him, he 
had no better home to give them than the 
shed he had put up for bachelor quarters on 
a strip of ground to which he held a doubt- 
ful Spanish title that was liable to be con- 
tested at any time. 

By no means impressed with the dubious- 
ness of his own claim, Mr. Finney — who 
for some time had indulged in drink and 
politics — began to believe that it gave him 

12 177 


178 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


a right to a far greater extent of property 
than that covered by his own homely estab- 
lishment. Under this delusion he went to 
war with his neighbors on all sides, and 
spent time and money in trying to prove 
himself proprietor of a good portion of the 
Laguna land. The greater his legal experi- 
ence was, the more he gave himself up to 
the influence of intoxication, so that he had 
at last become little better than a lunatic, 
wasting his substance under the spell of a 
double delusion. 

He had finally adopted the idea that he 
and the members of his class were abused 
and downtrodden by the more fortunate 
members of society, and so exalted himself 
into a defender and orator of workingmen. 

He was engaged on the day of his death 
in an excited speech to a small group of 
loungers, idle and worthless like himself. 
Having drunk more than usual, he wrought 
himself up to a terrible pitch of frenzy, 
denouncing his neighbors by name and 
using most abusive and profane language 
in connection with them. Suddenly he 
became inarticulate, and, after gasping and 


AFFLICTION AND HELP. 


179 


struggling for breath, fell down in a violent 
fit. This was followed by insensibility, 
from which he never roused. And all 
this was the effect of idleness and habit- 
ual intoxication. 

The house and family were miserable 
evidences of the falseness of his system. 
Neglect and disorder reigned everywhere, 
and claimed the younger children and their 
mother as victims. But James and his 
sister had of late really contrived to emerge 
from the wretched chaos, to assume a little 
better appearance, and to take a clearer and 
more sensible view of their situation. 

When I got there, some time after school 
was dismissed, Kitty had already, with her 
brother’s help, made an effort to produce 
a decent appearance in the main room, 
where the body was laid. A clean spread 
covered the bed, and the chairs were set in or- 
der around the walls. The table, that had 
always seemed to occupy the middle of the 
floor whenever I passed, was closed and put 
back, and Kitty had smoothed her mother’s 
generally disordered hair, and induced her 
to put on a clean apron and neckerchief. 


180 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


Mrs. Finney’s grief was violent in its 
nature, and she had somehow contrived to 
lay the blame of her loss on her wealthy 
neighbors, and lamented her husband and 
reproached them in the same breath. 

Mrs. Crofton came in while I was there ; 
so did Miss Esther Blaine and Mrs. Harris. 
The poor widow renewed her lamentations 
at the arrival of each, saying that she had 
lost the best and kindest husband with 
whom a woman was ever blest, and that 
he was the victim of aristocratic tyrants, 
who would be satisfied now that he was 
gone and his helpless widow and children 
were left to starve. 

The ladies tried in vain to calm and con- 
sole her; and, finding their efforts useless, 
they turned their attention to more practical 
matters. 

“I will get some clothes for Nelly and 
Jane,” said Miss Esther. “I can easily 
alter my little sister’s dresses to fit them 
until others are made ; and I know Mrs. 
Norris has suits from the Sunday-school 
Aid Circle that will do for the two younger 
boys.” 


AFFLICTION AND HELP. 


181 


“ Captain Blaine and Mr. Morley came 
and offered to take charge of father’s fu- 
neral,” said Kitty, weeping quietly. “ Every 
one seems very kind to mother, and I am 
truly thankful to them all.” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Finney with a bitter 
groan, “ it is very easy to be kind, now they 
have done their worst and we are thrown 
on the charity of the world without your 
father’s help or care. Poor, foolish young 
things that you are! You don’t know the 
loss which you have met, nor to what it has 
reduced you. If Dennis Finney had been 
spared, we would soon have been as well 
off as our neighbors. But now he has gone, 
and there is nothing left.” 

I do not know from what principle Mrs. 
Finney reasoned, but she really seemed to 
believe what she said. If ever we had 
blamed her children for being obstinate, 
wicked or unreasonable, we saw now that 
they had some excuse in their example and 
training. 

But the Laguna people took a good way 
to disprove her foolish words, and if possible 
convince her to the contrary of her mis- 


182 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


taken ideas. However unpopular the Fin- 
neys had been in the past, they were now 
the recipients of nothing but kindness and 
attention. While I was there during the 
next day, helping Kitty in her efforts to 
tidy the house, almost every one in the val- 
ley came with offers of service or substan- 
tial evidences of sympathy. 

Poor Kitty was very much sobered by 
the shock of her father’s death. Her man- 
ner was subdued, and she showed both 
thoughtfulness and consideration toward her 
mother and the rest of the family. But 
her naturally aspiring tastes found real 
gratification in improving the poor place 
with such things as were furnished by the 
neighbors for that purpose. On the day of 
the funeral, when the children were all 
clean and decently dressed, and the house 
looked as it had never done before, both 
neat and comfortable, her grief certainly 
found a balm in her internal satisfaction, 
and I saw her look round with covert pride 
at her mother’s suitable mourning-dress 
even while the tears flowed from her eyes. 

Mr. Finney’s ostensible business had been 


AFFLICTION AND HELP. 


183 


an agency or two, out of which he managed 
to gather a small proportion of a living. 
But he also held a petty ward office, the re- 
ward of his political career. From this he 
contrived to get enough to keep him on good 
terms with the drinking-saloons and restau- 
rants, leaving his family to do the best they 
could with their poultry and eggs, in the care 
of which Kitty was both expert and fortunate. 

As Miss Blaine and Mrs. Harris took care 
of the family wardrobes, and Captain Blaine 
and Mr. Morley met the expenses of the 
funeral, the neighbors very readily supplied 
the household with food, and left them in a 
more comfortable condition than they had 
been for a long time. 

But this was not enough, and from what I 
heard said among the gentlemen I felt con- 
vinced that they meditated conferring some 
permanent favor on the family, which some 
months before was considered a disgrace and 
annoyance to all the valley. 

The day of the funeral had come, and as 
Mrs. Finney confined herself to wailings and 
regrets, the elder son and daughter were ap- 
pealed to, and allowed almost entire manage- 


184 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


ment of the solemn ceremony. They showed 
greater judgment and a finer sense of pro- 
priety than one could have expected under 
the circumstances, and respectfully combated 
their mother’s desire to have a large and 
showy procession to follow their father to 
the grave. 

The unhappy man’s life had not offered a 
hopeful text for a funeral oration, as both of 
his children seemed to feel. They had there- 
fore begged Mr. Harris simply to read the 
Scriptures and pray in the house and at the 
grave. This he did in a very solemn and 
impressive manner. Nearly all the people 
of the Laguna were there, and the kindness 
and attention shown by persons who had 
received many causes for anger and provo- 
cation from the deceased acted upon his chil- 
dren more powerfully than the most eloquent 
discourse could have done. 

Miss Blaine and I went back to the house 
after the burial, and Kitty broke out in quite 
a passionate way as soon as we re-entered the 
door : 

“I never, never can forget, while life is 
left me, how good everybody has been to us 


AFFLICTION AND HELP. 


185 


all, and to our poor dead father too. I hope 
God will make me thankful and humble. I 
know Jim feels as I do, and that he has made 
up his mind to be kind and live in goodwill 
with all the world ; for I see you cannot love 
God right unless you do. That was poor fa- 
ther’s trouble ; he tried to believe everybody 
wanted to put him down, and that as soon as 
people got anything that he had not, they 
despised him for being without it. Jim 
made the same mistake ; so did I ; and it 
kept us in constant misery. But we cannot 
believe such a wretched doctrine any more, 
when the very people father talked most 
against came and acted like forgiving Chris- 
tians to him and us.” 

“ That’s true, Kitty,” said James in a 
trembling voice. “They seem to treat us all 
the kinder because we are poor, and I believe 
they want to make us forget that father used 
to be quarreling with them all the time.” 

Even Mrs. Finney, contrary to my expec- 
tation, answered this by saying with a sigh, 
“ Yes ; nobody can complain of the Laguna 
people in this respect. They have behaved 
better than I expected, I am sure.” 


186 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


She then proceeded to say that of course if 
she could get her rights she could pay back 
all that had been done for her, and, having 
got on this foolish strain, relapsed into spec- 
ulating about the probabilities of such a de- 
sirable thing taking place. 

“ Maybe, now that I am a widow, the 
court would do me justice,” she said, “if we 
only had the ready capital to prosecute our 
claim.” 

But I was thankful to see that such dis- 
course had no effect on her son and daughter. 
They had suffered too much through such 
absurd pretensions, and were now determined 
to aspire to nothing they could not honestly 
claim. 

“ Don’t talk of such things, mother,” cried 
Kitty with something of her old impatience 
of tone and manner ; “ if it had not been for 
just such nonsense, we would not need to be 
cases of charity, and father would not be in 
his grave to-night.” 

Mrs. Finney was, after all, a rather weak 
woman ; finding that her old principles were 
no longer popular, and somehow realizing 
that her children were greater objects of in- 


AFFLICTION AND HELP. 


187 


terest and sympathy than herself, she sub- 
sided with a sigh, and from that time forward 
seemed to yield her old views and ways to 
them. 

We saw that they were all comfortably 
provided for that night, and left James and 
Kitty — the younger children having had sup- 
per and gone to bed — sitting together talking 
over their future prospects with their mother 
in a very sensible and dutiful way. 

Miss Esther parted from me to go over to 
see little Jenny, whom she had been rather 
obliged to neglect for some days past, and 
I stopped in to talk with Mr. Fayot on the 
subject of his taking James to learn his bus- 
iness thoroughly, and thus securing the boy 
a good means of earning a living for the 
future. 

But, to my disappointment, the florist did 
not seem to favor the plan. He said James 
did his duty very fairly when at work by the 
job ; but his opinion of the lad’s tempera- 
ment and habits did not dispose him to think 
he would make a good apprentice to such a 
quiet business as gardening. 

Mr. Fayot was devoted to his work, and 


188 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


certainly better able to judge of James’s fit- 
ness for it than I could be; but I felt greatly 
chagrined when I found that I could not 
prevail on him to take him into steady 
employment. 

He still offered James work when he 
should need help in packing seeds or putting 
up roots and bulbs, but that was all, and I 
was forced to turn my hopes to something 
else. 

By inquiring I heard of a place in a hard- 
ware house, and hastened to see the pro- 
prietors. They seemed to be kind gentle- 
men, but they wanted a young man for sales- 
man who would be able by his manners and 
briskness to suit the trade. 

James scarcely seemed suited for that; 
and I tried two or three other openings with 
a like result, not wishing to speak to him of 
any of them until I had some surety of their 
proving suitable. 

At length I heard of a very good opening 
in a grain- and flour-store, and went at once, 
hoping to secure it. 

There was but small pay offered at first, 
but the prospects were good, and I felt that 


AFFLICTION AND HELP. 


189 


I might with propriety go out to the valley 
and tell James of .this place. 

Owing to the active interest I had taken 
in this way, I had not been able to see any- 
thing of the family since the night of the 
funeral, and I half expected to find the place 
relapsed into its old wretchedness of appear- 
ance and surroundings. But I was pleasant- 
ly disappointed to find it neater than ever. 
The younger children were playing in the 
dooryard, but it was no longer a mass of 
rubbish and dirt, with which their appear- 
ance well accorded. Everything looked as if 
it had been newly set in order, and a wood- 
en paling ran along the end of the house, 
which secured the poultry in the back yard. 

Kitty was just brushing up the floor after 
tea, and Mrs. Finney was at work — for the 
first time in my knowledge of her — sewing 
the “ tailoring ” which Mrs. McBride gave 
out to her deputies. 

“ I have persuaded mother to give up the 
housekeeping to me,” said Kitty in explana- 
tion. “ She does not like it, and it sort of 
bothers her. Besides, she is a really beauti- 
ful sewer, and can get along finely on the 


190 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


linen pants Mrs. McBride lias given her to 
make up for the clothing-house for which 
she works.” 

“Yes, and Kitty helps me very nicely,” 
said her mother, with her old pride in her 
favorite daughter. “ Kitty is a neat sewer 
when she tries. All she needs is to settle 
her mind to anything, and then she is sure 
to do it well.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know about that, mother. 
There are plenty of things that I cannot do 
at all. But I guess I can learn dress-mak- 
ing if I try hard ; and as I am over sixteen, 
and tall and strong for my age, I think I 
had better begin. Mrs. Norris says I could 
set up for myself in a couple of years or so, 
and that I would be sure to get custom out 
here in the valley. Miss Phillips would give 
me her extra work, and she always has more 
than she can possibly do.” 

“ What an excellent plan, Kitty ! I never 
thought of it before, but it seems the very 
thing.” 

“Yes, ma’am. It was Jim’s idea; he 
seems to be quite a man now. He thinks 
of everything, and tells us all what to do.” 


AFFLICTION AND HELP. 


191 


“ I have something for him which I hope 
will prove useful and suitable,” I said, and 
was about to explain fully when Kitty, 
opening her eyes very wide, exclaimed, 
“ Why, didn’t you know, Miss Herbert, our 
Jim has gone into business? I thought 
every one knew it, but he has been so busy 
that he has not had time to go and tell you, 
I suppose.” 

As she was speaking James and his 
younger brother came in together. 

There is nothing that so changes and im- 
proves any one as the feeling of being able 
to do something for the comfort and happi- 
ness of others. James had regularly entered 
life on his own account, and was now the 
head of his family and the one to whom 
they looked for help and support. He 
showed his consciousness of responsibility 
by a serious and modest demeanor, and ap- 
proached me for the first time with a frank 
and pleasant air. He had always been re- 
spectful to me, but never without a certain 
reticence that was half shy, half sullen, 
which had now wholly disappeared. 

I told him that I had come out to tell him 


192 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


of a possible situation, but was happily dis- 
appointed to find him already in a place. 
He did not forget to thank me before he 
said that Mrs. Parrish’s son had been very 
kind to him, and offered him a chance in 
the newspaper line, and that he had advised 
with his mother and Kitty about taking it ; 
the only drawback being that he would have 
to work quite a long time to pay for the ex- 
pense incurred at first starting. 

Mr. Parrish had the agency of a number 
of leading papers, and had already estab- 
lished an excellent stand in a populous 
neighborhood. His proposition was to set 
James up in a branch store, with a good 
supply of the leading journals and period- 
icals and a route or two of daily papers 
attached, where, with care and attention, 
James could not fail to earn a good living, 
and likewise provide for his younger broth- 
ers, whose services could be made available 
in distributing the papers and helping about 
the shop. 

The only drawback to this excellent plan 
was the expense, and this Mr. Parrish agreed 
to assume if he could hold the stock and ser- 


AFFLICTION AND HELP. 


193 


vices of James and his brothers until it was 
repaid. 

This was fair and just, but the Finneys 
could not live meantime on nothing. There 
were seven of them to be fed and clothed, 
and Kitty seemed energetically opposed to 
their ever returning to the old dirty, reckless 
and half-clothed style in which they had 
lived when they subsisted as best they could 
on the poultry-fund and chance help from 
their irresponsible father. 

A generous relief from this difficulty was 
offered by the kind gentlemen of the valley, 
who called on Mrs. Finney the day after Mr. 
Parrish’s proposal and gave her to understand 
that they desired to give her family some 
proof of their friendly consideration as old 
neighbors, and, hearing of James’s oppor- 
tunity to enter the newspaper line, would 
take pleasure in defraying all the expense 
of his shop-fixtures and stock in trade. 
They then presented her with a check for a 
hundred dollars, which they said was a per- 
sonal gift, over and above their aid to her 
son. 

Poor Mrs. Finney, who had not seen so 

13 


194 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


much money at once in many a day, thought 
herself very rich with such a sum, and ex- 
pressed herself as very grateful. 

James could hardly believe his senses 
when he heard from her of their good 
fortune, and the last cloud of his old life 
seemed to break and fade away at this in- 
stance of good feeling and confidence on 
the part of the people whom he used to 
consider his enemies. 

He had gone at his work at once with 
astonishing energy, and when I heard the 
family account of what he had already ac- 
complished, and with what decision and 
kindness he managed his little brothers and 
made them useful, I felt that Mr. Fayot was 
right when he said that a boy of James’s 
temperament should be allowed to work out 
something for himself, and not be tied to 
a quiet routine, such as hot-house work 
would prove. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

CHUMB&S INDEMNITY. 

11 Work and labor of love.” — Heb. vi. 10. 

TENNY WARE still lingered, though she 
^ had grown so weak that she could only 
say a few words at a time to those who went 
to see her. But she had not lost her inter- 
est in her old favorite, and Mrs. Ware told 
me that to James’s credit he never neglected 
to come over at least twice a week, let him 
be tired or not, after the store closed, to 
sit beside his “ first friend,” as he called 
Jenny. 

I heard something about Egbert Hyde 
that pleased me very much. His father 
had been doubling all the money Egbert 
saved, so that he might soon be able to 
buy a pony; but when the trouble about 
Chumbo’s hut came to light, Colonel Hyde 

195 


196 


CHUMBO’ S HUT. 


stopped the gift and told his son he might 
do what he could with the money he already 
had to lessen the misery he had caused the 
poor Indian. 

Poor Chumbo was a miserable creature; 
his residence in the fort hospital had bene- 
fited him in one way, by making him clean 
and comfortably clothed, but the poor fellow 
was old and his health was entirely ruined 
by his late mishaps. Rheumatism cramped 
his muscles, so that he could not walk with- 
out limping terribly; the burns were slow 
to heal ; and he had a racking cough that 
made his old bones shake and his dim eyes 
water. 

Egbert took counsel with his father, and 
decided to build Chumbo a weather- tight 
hut, where he could be comfortable in the 
approaching rainy season ; and Effie, further- 
ing this charitable plan, began to contrive 
many comforts which were kindly meant, 
though scarcely such as the poor savage 
could appreciate. 

The fort carpenter began the construction 
of the hut at once, as the surveillance of 
hospital-life cramped and distressed Chum- 


CHUMBO’ S INDEMNITY. 


197 


bo, and he fretted for freedom in the tule 
once more. The former club-boys spent 
the greater part of their holidays in improv- 
ing the ground around this edifice, after 
taking great pride and care in helping its 
erection along. 

A small stove and many unnecessary com- 
forts were provided for Chumbo, whose wild 
life had not lent him the power of appreci- 
ating them. But not even the swamp or 
tule could deprive him of the sense of pleas- 
ure his queer old red face expressed at sight 
of their kind actions and efforts to please 
him when he was fully installed in his new 
home. 

Young people of both sexes act so often 
under the spur of impulse, or from the con- 
tagion of example or suggestion, that we 
should be very discriminating in our con- 
demnation of their faults, even when they 
seem flagrant. We should strive to detect 
how much is owing to the stress of circum- 
stances and how much to innate evil before 
we pronounce our judgment. 

These boys, who had so lately united to 
torment Chumbo and drive him from their 


198 


CHXJMBO’S HUT. 


neighborhood, now, under the sway of a 
revulsion of feeling, could not do enough to 
comfort and cheer the suffering old man. 
They were actuated in this by strong re- 
morse for their former cruelty and a gener- 
ous determination to recompense him for 
his past troubles. 

One day, while I was sitting at Jenny’s 
bedside reading to her, Sarah Crofton ran in 
to tell us that Clmmbo’s hut was all complete, 
and that the boys had borrowed Captain 
Blaine’s truck and put Chumbo’s bright new 
scarlet blankets in it, and gone to give him a 
triumphal ride and procession to his hut. 

I heard a great deal of hurrahing and 
cheering as they started off on their errand, 
and Jenny smiled and seemed very happy 
to know the valley was at peace and acting 
under kind feeling. 

“ None of the boys except the party who 
were to blame for the burning are there,” 
said Sarah. “Our Harry says the boys 
made a promise that they would all spend 
every cent of their holiday-money on Chum- 
bo, to make up for what they had done to 
frighten and worry him.” 


CHUMBO’S INDEMNITY. 


199 


“ He is not as well or strong as he used to 
be, is lie, Miss Herbert ?” asked Jenny. 

“ No, dear, I believe not. I think I heard 
Audley Norris say that the fort surgeon said 
he would never be well again.” 

Jenny looked thoughtful. “ When I am 
gone,” she said, “ I trust the friends who 
have been so good to me will remember this 
poor Indian. I know he seems queer and 
silly, and talks about his black Spirit and the 
great dances of scalps and pipes that he will 
have when he dies. But I am sure he could 
be taught about the Saviour and the real 
heaven that he can reach through Christ's 
love; it is all so plain that he can under- 
stand it easily if any good soul will only be 
patient enough to teach him.” 

She was so earnest and pleading in this 
that I, feeling very timid of my own pow- 
ers and distrustful of any success in such a 
solemn undertaking, was fain to promise that 
I would try. 

“ Oh, thank you!” cried Jenny with a 
reviving gleam of her old spirit ; “ you make 
me full of hope for Chumbo ; and now I will 
beg Sammy and Audley and Frank to go 


200 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


and read to him, as they sometimes do for 
me.” She sank back exhausted, and closed 
her eyes a little while after this ; so I shut 
my book and moved softly away, whisper- 
ing to her mother that I thought she would 
sleep. 

“No; she is praying for Chumbo,” said 
Mrs. Ware. “ There never was such a child 
to pray for people, and believe in the effect 
of prayer, as my Jenny. When she was a 
little creature she never saw a child or an 
animal in need of anything that she did not 
desire to divide her small portion with. 4 If 
I give all I can, it will be just as much as if 
I could give more/ she would say ; and now 
all she has are her prayers, so she gives them 
freely/’ 

I left my little scholar with a pleasant 
sense of something gained ; I always car- 
ried away that feeling from the dear child’s 
presence, and I think the children who vis- 
ited her shared the impression, for they all 
liked to go there, as if to a scene of de- 
light rather than to the contemplation of a 
deathbed. Yet they were graver for these 
experiences. I could notice the feeling, like 


CHUMBO’S INDEMNITY. 


201 


a subtle and beautiful spell, restraining them 
from rough, wild pranks or boisterous tricks 
upon each other. 

I wanted to stop a moment at Mrs. Par- 
rish’s to see Bessie and ask about James 
Finney’s business. So I left the cottage and 
went over to the house nearest the school. 

Mrs. Parrish was at work sewing, but 
Bessie had gone to Mrs. Harris’s to attend a 
meeting of her class. During the holidays 
Miss Esther and she had agreed to take turns 
in having the girls assemble at their houses 
once a week and help their teachers to 
sew for the Sunday-school Aid Circle, that 
clothed needy scholars and fitted them to 
appear in the Sunday-school. 

Mrs. Parrish’s house had an air of com- 
fort about it that told of her son’s success 
before she confided to me how well he was 
doing in his business. 

“The gentlemen gave him the money to 
invest for James,” she continued ; “ for 
although the boy has shown wonderful spirit 
and judgment, he is only a boy, and needs 
guidance and advice from an older and more 
experienced person. So my William has 


202 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


gone into partnership with him, as you may 
call it ; that is, he helps him by buying for 
him and making his contracts, and seeing to 
his stock and all sorts of things.” 

“He is a very valuable friend,” I said 
heartily. 

“Oh, it is all in a business way, you 
know. They settle with each other regu- 
larly, and keep strict accounts; that is the 
way to be friends.” 

Quite a procession appeared in sight, and 
a joyous shout broke upon our ears at the 
same moment. We ran to the garden-gate 
as it came down the road, and beheld Chum- 
bo, robed in his fine new blankets and 
crowned with three tall hats perched on 
top of one another and decked with flaunt- 
ing feathers. He sat in state in the truck, 
and the boys had harnessed themselves to 
it to draw him to his new home. 

The Surano boys had joined the proces- 
sion, and they and Dicky Law and Jose 
Silvio were pushing the vehicle at the back, 
without occasioning any ill-will on the part 
of the other boys; which certainly was a 
noticeable concession, the “ Greasers,” as 


CHUMBO’S INDEMNITY. 


203 


they were derisively called, being hitherto 
regarded as pariahs by the Americans. 

They were so exultant, pointing out to 
the Indian the splendors of his new man- 
sion as it rose in sight on a little knoll on 
the end of Colonel Hyde’s grounds, that 
they did not perceive our vicinity ; we re- 
mained quiet, and they passed by gayly 
till they reached the next turning, when 
I heard Edward Morley call back warn- 

ingty, 

“ Hush, boys ! keep down your noise ! 
Jenny Ware’s house is over there, and we 
may hurt her head hurrahing.” 

“ Are not the boys getting thoughtful ?” 
said Mrs. Parrish admiringly. 

I assented with a deep sense of thankful- 
ness and satisfaction. 


CHAPTER XV. 

JENNY’S REST. 

“Our Saviour Jesus Christ hath abolished death.” — 2 
Tim. i. 10. 

O NCE more I was called to visit the La- 
guna Valley before I resumed my duties 
in school. 

I had been absent from the city on a 
friendly visit for three or four days, and on 
my return I found a note waiting for me 
from Miss Esther. It contained only these 
words : 

“ Dear Miss Herbert : 

“ God has taken our little Jenny to his 
blessed rest. Her poor mother, who bore 
up so patiently and cheerfully, gave way 
completely under the long-looked-for blow, 
and is now inconsolable. Come as soon as 
possible. With love, 


204 


Esther Blaine.” 


JENNY’S BEST. 


205 


It was dated the night after I left the 
city, and on inquiry I found that some one 
or other of my scholars had been there 
frequently during the two days following. 
The last was James Finney. He had called 
late the night before, and, hearing at what 
hour I was expected, left word for me to 
lose no time in reaching the valley, because 
Jenny was to be buried that day. 

I therefore made all the haste I could, 
but when I turned down the school-house 
road I heard the sound of singing, sweet 
children’s voices rising in tender melody 
in one of the simple hymns Jenny had 
loved so dearly. As I neared the house 
I distinguished the words : 

“Jesus, blessed Saviour, hast thou died for me? 

Make me very thankful in my heart to thee.” 

Nearly all the scholars of both schools 
were assembled in the garden in front of 
Mrs. Ware’s cottage, and their sweet singing 
was the last tribute they could pay their dear 
little friend. 

Mr. Ware had come back from his place 
in the mines to be present at his daughter’s 


206 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


funeral and endeavor to comfort his heart- 
broken wife. 

The poor woman had been able to control 
herself most unselfishly as long as the little 
sufferer was to be considered ; but now that 
her sweet, hopeful eyes were closed for ever, 
the light seemed suddenly to go out of Mrs. 
Ware’s life and all help to be withdrawn 
from her. She sat at the side of the coffin 
holding the tiny white hand tenaciously, as 
if dreading the moment when she would 
have to resign its touch. Next to her were 
two sincere, heartbroken mourners whose 
grief seemed to act like a balm on hers. 
James Finney and Sarah Crofton had been 
Jenny’s closest companions; for them she 
had thought and prayed, and in their future 
had been the strongest faith of her fading 
life. 

Looking at her now as she lay in soft white 
drapery that hid her wasted form, adorned 
with autumn flowers prodigally strewn around 
by loving young hands, which thus sought 
to express the affection of their saddened 
hearts, I felt that she had been a wonderful 
power for good in our small community — 


JENNY’S BEST. 


207 


that she who in her health had been a shy 
child, noticeable only for her timid, affection- 
ate nature, had, when stricken by disease 
and loosened from the active interests of her 
age, proved a minister of grace to win all 
who came within her influence to higher, 
better thoughts and purer lives. 

Everything that affection could do to soften 
grief had been done for Mrs. Ware. Miss 
Esther and the other Sunday-school teachers 
had spared her every care and carried out 
her wishes as if by instinct, and they and 
Mr. Harris united in the effort to draw her 
crushed heart heavenward, where the Hand 
that had afflicted was waiting to heal. 

She did not rebel, but only lay prostrate 
and sorrowing at the outer side of the gate 
that had closed in her darling. She could 
not give cheerfully, but she never doubted 
the dear Saviour’s love in asking. 

“ I am trying by his grace to learn to 
say, ‘ Thy will be done/ ” she whispered to 
me as she clasped my hands in hers, “but 
the words will not come freely yet.” 

We buried our dear little girl in the 
mountain cemetery, where the great sea- 


208 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


waves break far below and the soft murmur 
rises when the air is still like the melody 
of a song of peace. 

The good clergyman, speaking from Jen- 
ny’s last hours as a text, called upon the 
young to remember their Creator and turn 
their hearts to him, for his only Son had died 
that the sting might be taken from death 
and the horrors of the grave conquered to 
those who repented of their sins and clung 
to him as their Redeemer. He called on 
them all to acknowledge their utter help- 
lessness and their need of a Saviour’s love 
— to fly to his outstretched arms and cling 
to them always, for there is no other name 
under heaven by which we can be saved. 

There was not one careless listener among 
the whole body of children present, and 
many were very deeply affected. I know 
that youth is fickle, and that the impressions 
of joy or sorrow seldom last ; but the lessons 
then received into the pliant souls, though 
they may sink from sight and seem to be 
forgotten, are often revived in after years 
with a faithfulness that proves their reten- 
tion. Besides, in the case of these children 


JENNY’S BEST. 


209 


the good teachers, who were deeply inter- 
ested in their eternal welfare, were with 
them so constantly that they could and 
did fan the spark and cherish the flame 
until in many cases it resulted in sound 
conversion and the beautiful fruits of higher 
Christian life. 

As we left the cemetery, James Finney 
walked at my side to the carriage. 

“ I am going to tell Chumbo all about 
Jenny’s funeral,” he said. “He can’t go 
around now as he used to do, and he likes 
to listen. Poor fellow ! he thinks the bad 
Spirit makes his bones ache, and he says if 
he had money he would buy him a gun and 
a blanket, and then he would let him alone.” 

I asked James if he knew how anxious 
dear Jenny was that the Indian should be 
taught to listen to the Bible and learn about 
Christ, and he said yes — that she had made 
him promise to go to his hut and read to him 
whenever he could spare the time. But he 
was very much afraid Chumbo never could 
be taught anything. 

“ He used to say the American God could 
not be good , or the American boys would be- 

14 


210 


CIIUMBO’S hut. 


have better; and when a missionary came 
out to talk to him once, he ran away and 
hid in the tule, because he did not want to 
learn about the white man’s religion.” 

James said this very hopelessly, but I re- 
minded him that this was Chumbo’s view 
of the Christian faith when he was suffering 
constant persecutions at the hands of its 
children, and that he judged it by its fruits. 
I said it was a solemn and awful thing to 
bring the religion of Christ into discredit in 
the eyes of heathen ; and he seemed to feel 
that it was. . What was better still, he took 
fresh spirit and determined to repeat to 
Chumbo all that Mrs. Norris had taught 
him. 

But James was henceforth a young man of 
business, and his time for teaching was very 
limited. Our holidays were over, and the 
Laguna School reopened with two vacant 
places, to be filled no more by those who had 
once occupied them. Jane Ware had gone 
to a place in one of her Father’s mansions 
above, and James Finney had gone out into 
the world to fight its battles in real earnest 
as the young head of his mother’s family, 


JENNY’S REST. 


211 


with the duties and responsibilities of man- 
hood devolving on his shoulders. 

It certainly was like looking at a transfor- 
mation to observe him in his new character 
and remember what he had so lately been. 
Now his object was duty well performed, and 
a more industrious or energetic boy I never 
saw. Even after his day’s work was over he 
found time to keep up the studies which I 
had marked out for him, and one or two 
evenings in the week he came to my house 
for assistance in his arithmetic, which was 
the branch he felt most interested in pur- 
suing. 

Mr. Ware took his wife back with him to 
the mines. The cottage had become so deso- 
late that we all felt the change would be good 
for the bereaved mother. But before she 
went away she had conquered, through God’s 
grace, the hopelessness of her grief, and, 
though sad, was not forsaken. A life new, 
and in many respects exciting, awaited her, 
and she felt that even her humble efforts 
might be for good in a mining-town with a 
slender female population and strong tend- 
encies to gaming and reckless living on all 


212 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


sides. We parted from her with tears and 
prayers, for her sorrow had drawn her close 
to the hearts of the Laguna people. But we 
all felt that a patient, loving worker like her 
would be blest wherever she went. 

No one appeared to take the cottage ; it 
was closed up, and the great geranium trees 
grew rank and the fuchsias flourished in the 
garden in the early rains. The school-girls 
used to go over there and bring me nosegays 
of “ Jenny’s flowers,” as they called them. 
The place seemed sacred to the memory that 
had drawn their hearts around it. 

But it was destined soon to receive new 
tenants. 

Mrs. Finney sent her daughter Nelly for 
me one day in great haste as I was about to 
leave the school-house and drop in for my 
usual visit and attempt to read to Chumbo. 
So I accompanied the child (who told me 
she did not know the occasion of her moth- 
er’s message) back to the house. 

Kitty was sewing with Miss Phillips, she 
said, and her other sister had gone to live 
with the dressmaker entirely. “She gives 
her her clothes and boards her for picking 


JENNY’S REST. 


213 


out bastings and running errands, and when 
she gets real smart she is going to teach her 
the trade,” said Nelly, with evident pride in 
her sister’s prospects. “Kitty gets time to 
help at home, and I keep house while she is 
gone,” she continued. 

She further informed me that Kitty’s 
progress was so great that she “ ’most made 
a dress for Mrs. Crofton, only she did not fit 
it all, and Miss Phillips showed her how to 
do it.” 

When I heard this hopeful and encour- 
aging account I had just reached the Fin- 
neys’ dooryard, and found Mrs. Finney 
waiting for me with her old woe-begone 
confusion of manner. 

“We are all ruined now, I suppose, Miss 
Herbert,” she said mournfully. “ I am sure 
I thought we had had every misfortune that 
could befall a family, but it seems there was 
another blow waiting.” 

With this introduction she acquainted me 
with the following facts : Mr. Finney had 
held a title to his place that had never been 
disputed, because no one had ever examined 
into it. His desire while living had been to 


214 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


prove the flaws in other people’s titles to their 
possessions, and so he had neglected to estab- 
lish his own. 

Captain Blaine had lately decided to 
build a larger and handsomer house, and 
after consulting some of his friends and 
neighbors he proposed to Mrs. Finney to 
buy her ground of her at a fair price. He 
and his friends represented to her that the 
interest of the money would far more than 
pay the rent of a comfortable dwelling, 
whilst their present quarters were not fit 
to encounter the rainy season without many 
repairs. 

She acknowledged the truth of this, and 
saw that she could not sell at a better time. 
So, after taking James and Kitty into con- 
sultation, she consented and gave the captain 
her deed to examine. 

Then it was ascertained that there was an 
old Spanish title existing which had been 
bought up in the case of Mr. Morley, 
whose property was purchased under the 
same conditions, hut which Mr. Finney’s 
want, of prudence had allowed to lie unex- 
amined and uncontested. This injured the 


JENNY’S BEST. 


215 


sale materially. Captain Blaine did not pro- 
pose to pay a good price for a doubtful deed, 
and if this old claim should be instituted 
by its holder against the property the Fin- 
neys might at any moment be obliged to 
defend their right or leave the place. 

“ You were always our friend, Miss Her- 
bert,” said the poor woman, concluding this 
recital in a doleful voice. “ You were the 
first to make the valley people see how they 
had misused us, and so I turn to you in my 
trouble. Poor James has been doing so well, 
and Kitty too is just as good and industrious 
as a girl can be. But this news will upset 
them all.” 

“ Who is the holder of the claim ?” I 
asked, simply because I did not know what 
else to say in a case so far removed from my 
knowledge or ability. 

“ Here is the name written out ; I never 
could remember those Spanish words. He 
got a land-grant running down between Mr. 
McCook’s place and the laguna, but sold off 
most of it to buyers and squatters for just 
what they would give him. It had no value 
then, and if Dennis Finney had ever taken 


216 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


a thought for the interests of his family he 
would have bought the part of it we hold 
and saved us this trouble.” 

Mrs. Finney’s affection was veering and 
uncertain. She had never endeavored to 
induce her husband to be wise or careful 
in his life, and now that the effect of his 
improvidence was irrevocable she blamed 
him. 

I read the name on the paper two or 
three times. It was “ Felipe Maria Nunes 
Alvarado,” and being long and pretentious 
enough to remember, I felt sure I would 
not forget it. 

“ I will endeavor to find out where this 
man is,” I said, “ and then you can make 
up your mind what next to do.” 

It was plain to me that the poor woman 
suspected her good neighbors one moment 
and found fault with her dead husband the 
next ; for she said she had not given Mr. 
Morley or Captain Blaine any satisfaction 
when they called. “ How do I know but 
that it is a story got up to reduce the price 
of the place?” she said cunningly. 

I paid no attention to such an insinuation, 


JENNY’S BEST. 


217 


but, leaving kind messages for the chil- 
dren, went away. 

That very evening James came to me to 
say that his mother had told him about the 
deed, and that Kitty and he had resolved 
to rent the cottage Mrs. Ware had left and 
trust the Spanish claim to Providence. 

“ The cottage belongs to Mr. Hunter the 
banker, and he is a liberal gentleman. He 
is only going to make us pay half the rent 
until next spring, and that will not be as 
much as it would cost us to make our house 
weather- tight. He says to me, ‘ You have 
just begun the world for yourself, Jim, and 
I’ll let you have a chance to try it fairly 
before I come down on you for full rent. 
You do not want charity, because you have 
a spirit above it, but you want fair dealing; 
and this is about fair, I think.’ Wasn’t he 
kind, Miss Herbert?” 

“The whole valley seems full of kind 
people, James,” I said. 

“ That’s true : I never saw a place so 
changed in all my life,” answered James 
simply, not appearing to suspect where the 
change began. “So I came to tell you that 


218 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


we will move right over to poor, dear Jenny’s 
old house. Mrs. Parrish and Bessie are 
going to help mother to fix the place, and 
Kitty has a holiday too.” 

This is the way the cottage happened to 
get new tenants, and James fell heir to 
Jenny’s garden and many pleasant remem- 
brances of the dear child’s presence. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

THE SPANISH TITLE. 

“ There ariseth light in the darkness.” — Ps. cxii. 4. 

I T was quite easy to make an errand over 
to Silvio’s house; as he was the oldest 
Mexican in the vicinity, I went to him to 
inquire about “ Felipe Maria Nunes Alvara- 
do ” — not with any decided hope of gaining 
information, but because it was necessary 
to begin somewhere, and this seemed a fair 
starting-point. 

Jose was playing in a little hollow in the 
sand behind their shanty, and, taking my 
visit to himself, ran to meet me with the 
courtesy of a true Spaniard. He led me 
to where his father was calking his fishing- 
boat, and I found the elder Silvio an entirely 
different man from his neighbor Surano. 

He was quite communicative and cheerful, 
and told me that he and his brother lived 


219 


220 


CHUMBO’S HUT 


there with their children, both being widow- 
ers. But by and by, when they had caught 
fish enough to make a fortune, they would 
go back to Mexico, where they would be 
among their own people. 

He seemed to underrate the surrounding 
Spaniards, and told me they were all mixed 
with Indian blood, whilst he was a “pure 
Castilian.” 

I asked incidentally at this point if he had 
ever known a man of the name of Felipe 
Maria Nunes Alvarado. He laughed and 
pointed up to where the rain-washed ruin 
of Chumbo’s hut still stood. 

“ He died here with that old grasshopper, 
Churnbo,” he said. “ He was no true Span- 
iard, or he would never have lived like a 
Digger dog.” 

“Was he Chumbo’s friend?” I inquired 
very eagerly. 

“ Oh, yes. They were drinking together 
always until Felipe grew too ill ; then he 
wanted a padre, but he threw his money 
all away in bad wine, and could buy no 
mass. Ah, he was a bad fellow, a grass- 
hopper like Chumbo — no better.” 




Miss Herbert’s Visit to Chum bo’s Hut 


Page 221 

























THE SPANISH TITLE. 


221 


I had often visited the Indian, but with- 
out feeling that my efforts to read and talk 
to him made any progress. I always found 
him lying in his blankets near the door of 
his dirty hut, and I had to overcome a fool- 
ish repugnance before I could stop with him 
and speak to him. 

He was well cared for now, and always 
told me that he had plenty of food, and 
only desired respite from the cramping 
pains he suffered in his limbs. 

Having mentioned this once to Mr. Harris, 
he said he would carry him a bottle of lini- 
ment that would relieve the acute rheuma- 
tism, and he promised to see him as fre- 
quently as he could when I told him how 
vain my efforts were to interest him in Bible 
reading. 

He had been there the afternoon on which 
I met Silvio, and as I came back from the 
laguna after some further talk with my 
Spanish friend, I stopped at Chumbo’s door 
to ask if the liniment was successful. 

Chumbo was seated on the floor of his 
hut chuckling to himself in a very curious 
manner. In one hand he held a small, 


222 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


plainly-bound Bible, in the other a bottle 
of medicine. 

“Very good charm,” said he, grinning 
at me as I entered. “Me dig him down 
by’me by, put him in the ground and make 
my house all well.” 

At first I could not understand his idea, 
but after some expressive gestures I compre- 
hended that Chumbo was trying to adapt 
religion and science to his own superstition. 

The liniment had relieved him, and the 
Bible, as he had observed, was regarded by 
us as a sacred object ; so he wished to com- 
bine them into a charm and bury them 
under his house-floor to preserve his health. 

I spent some time in uselessly arguing 
and explaining the fallacy of such a plan, 
and then I said he must not cut up his nice 
new floor. 

At this he laughed, and, lifting three 
boards in the form of a trap-door, showed 
me the sand and earth disturbed beneath, 
and a modern japanned box protruding 
from the hole. 

“ Me old charm no good now ; me throw 
away.” 


THE SPANISH TITLE. 


223 


I sprang forward, crying, “ Oil let me see 
that box, please, Chumbo !” with all the 
anxious eagerness I felt. 

He pulled it up, grinning and mumbling 
over it. I found that it was battered and de- 
faced by rough usage, so that I could hardly 
loosen the hasp that held it closed. 

Chumbo watched me narrowly. “ No 
good charm?” he asked. “Bad Spirit say 
no good.” 

“ I do not know yet,” I answered. “ Let 
me see what this paper is. Why, it is a 
deed, Chumbo — a land-deed made out in the 
name of a Spaniard. You must not bury 
this; it is too good.” 

“ Too good ? worth money ? much money 
to buy blankets and a gun?” 

“Yes, yes, certainly. Will you let me 
take it and show it to Captain Blaine?” 

In my excitement I had already started, 
but Chumbo shuffled along and laid hold of 
my dress. 

Taking the deed out of my hand decided- 
ly, he placed it in the box, closed it and 
put it behind him, telling me to “ go ’way.” 

“All white men cheat Indians,” he said 


224 


CHUMBO' S HUT. 


sententiously, “This is Felipe’s charm; no 
good to bury, but very good to sell for 
money. All right !” 

So I was forced to retire with the import- 
ant knowledge that the deed for the Spanish 
claim on the Finneys’ property was in Chum- 
bo’s possession, and that he would sell it to 
any one who gave him a gun and blankets 
with which to propitiate his evil genius, who 
he thought had afflicted him with rheumatism. 

I went directly to the clergyman with the 
story, and saw him start over to Captain 
Blaine’s before I left. 

The kind minister was so highly pleased 
to think that the Finneys had no more ar- 
bitrary enemy than poor Chumbo that I 
took courage about it and felt that I must 
have exaggerated the danger. I did not 
wait to hear the result of their interview, 
but Caroline Harris brought me a note from 
her grandfather the next day, saying that 
Captain Blaine and Colonel Hyde had seen 
Chumbo and had offered to buy the japanned 
box from him at what the Indian considered 
a most generous price for an old charm ; but 
that he, Mr. Harris, disapproved of taking 


THE SPANISH TITLE. 


225 


advantage of the Indian’s superstition. He 
had therefore begged them to remain satis- 
fied with Chumbo’s solemn promise that he 
would sell it to no one, and allow the charm 
system to rest a while till the clergyman 
tried the effect of medicine on his suffering 
limbs. 

So the deed was safe, as the minister said ; 
and yet he advised that James should know 
nothing of it for the present. 

The family moved ; Mrs. Parrish and 
Kitty did wonders in putting the new house 
in order, and the Finneys enjoyed a pleasant 
home for the first time in many years. The 
generosity of the neighbors had given them 
many comforts at the time of the funeral ; 
others were added now. Having the loose 
boards and the lumber from the old sheds, 
James hired a carpenter to build a good 
house for the poultry and fence off a large 
place separate from the house-garden, where 
they could scratch in the sand and dirt, and 
Nelly could feed and care for them nicely. 

What a change ! The old Finney corner, 
with its dirty sheds and tumbledown fences, 
its host of ill-kept, fighting children and 

15 


226 


CHUMBO’S HUT. 


animals, and the squalid misery revealed by 
the open door, had disappeared. The lot 
was cleared, and the rest of the old lumber 
and shedding sold to pay the expense of 
moving and buy the necessary additions to 
their household furniture. The new abode 
was as tidy as Kitty’s newly-wakened ener- 
gy and love of home could make it; while 
James and the boys found time to weed and 
beautify the garden, although the town work 
kept them busy all day till nearly sundown. 

“ You could not keep that boy Batters out 
of mischief if you tied him hands and feet,” 
one of the valley people had said to me a year 
before when I was endeavoring to persuade 
her that he would improve as his reason de- 
veloped; and when I saw how much his 
industry accomplished, and how hard and 
energetically he worked, I did not wonder 
that his ceaseless efforts were so much 
dreaded when they only tended to mis- 
chief. 

Mr. Harris never saw me without com- 
menting on the happy change, and Samuel 
and Audley, who had entered the senior 
class, often came in at recess to speak about 


THE SPANISH TITLE. 


227 


James's nice store and his promising career 
as a “ business-man ” of little over fifteen 
years old. 

The boys did not neglect Chumbo. He 
told me his rheumatism was all right now — 
that Mr. Harris's charm had wrought won- 
ders. Then he would laugh and rap on his 
floor with a stick, saying, “ Very good charm, 
Felipe's; no good for leg-pains, but good for 
money." 

I found that he was very uncommunica- 
tive about the box, however, never naming 
it to any one but Mr. Harris and me, and 
especially anxious to preserve it a profound 
secret from James and the other boys. 

There had been no bargain concluded be- 
tween Mrs. Finney and Captain Blaine, 
whose plan for building had been deferred 
by a voyage to China, from which he had 
not yet returned. 

Spring had come again, and as I always 
attended the Valley Sunday-school, and had 
now a class of my own there, I missed James 
Finney one Sunday from his place in Mrs. 
Norris's circle of boys for the first time since 
he had joined it. Kitty was in Mrs. Harris's 


228 


CHUMBO' S HUT. 


row of girls as usual, and as soon as school 
closed I went over to inquire about him. 

“ Poor Chumbo is very ill,” said Kitty. 
“ Last night he sent James to Mr. Harris to 
beg him to come and baptize him ; and this 
morning Miss Esther went and stayed with 
him till near Sunday-school time ; and then 
Mr. Harris really did baptize him. Just 
think, Miss Herbert! poor Indian Chumbo 
is baptized ! I don’t believe he can be a real 
Christian, do you ?” 

“ I do not know, dear, but I am sure Mr. 
Harris must have known, or he would not 
have received him in the name of the dear 
Lord, who says, ‘ Him that cometh unto me 
I will in no wise cast out.’ ” I said this with 
a humble sense of my own inefficiency and 
the ease with which I had been discouraged at 
first about Chumbo. 

“ Oh yes, I know that beautiful verse, but 
it seems so strange ; and Effie Hyde says that 
his name is James now. He chose that name 
on account of liking our Jim so much ; and 
he said he wanted to go to the white boys’ 
heaven, because they were all good and kind 
now.” 


THE SPANISH TITLE. 


229 


“ Let us go and see the poor Indian, 
Kitty,” said I ; and we started together to- 
ward the hut. We were joined on the way 
by Miss Esther, who seemed to me to be the 
ministering angel of the valley. 

We found him breathing with a marked 
effort, but he knew us and said with a smile, 
“Me James now, like Batters. Your God 
my God, and his Bon, Great Medicine Spirit, 
heal me by’me by. I believe him ! I believe 
him !” 

Then he looked at me with a peculiar 
smile, and said, “ No more charm there.” 
He pointed to the old spot in the floor ; then 
putting his hand on his breast he said, “ God 
put a charm here to make Indian believe.” 

He had a very good mattress on which 
to lie, and everything around him that 
sickness could require. James sat at his 
side, and a grief that few could understand 
was marked upon his countenance ; for 
this poor savage had been a friend when 
there was none to pity or sympathize with 
him among the Christians who rated him 
the worst boy in the Laguna district. 

The clergyman and one or two others 


230 


CIIUMBO’S HUT. 


came in presently, and Chumbo, looking 
round, seemed to have expected them, for 
he smiled and said, “All right!” in his 
peculiar way. 

He tried to raise himself, but he was too 
weak. James anticipated his wish, and 
lifted him a little, so that he could get at 
something he had concealed under his head. 
It was the japanned box. 

“ Not good for charm,” he repeated, “ but 
very good for money. Felipe die ; then he 
got no child and he give me. I die ; I got 
one child, James; I give this to him. Me 
James too.” 

. He placed, or rather tried to place, the 
box in James’s hands, who took it, seeing 
his wish, with a look of wonder on his 
face. 

In this manner he received, unknown to 
himself, the deed of the Spanish grant. 
What appeared mysterious might have been 
known by any one who remembered back 
a half dozen years, as I afterward heard. 
For the drunken Felipe used to wander 
round trying to sell his title — which was 
then considered worthless, being uncon- 


THE SPANISH TITLE. 


231 


firmed — for a bottle of brandy at a wine- 
shop. 

Poor Chumbo died that night. Having 
constituted James his heir, his mind seemed 
at peace. As his reason could not compre- 
hend the full glory of the faith he had 
received, so his soul never doubted it, but 
rested in perfect trust till the last faint 
struggle carried him over the dark river, 
where, as we believe, his red skin and 
meagre faculties could not weigh against 
his penitence and faith. 

In the school-house yard a new class of 
boys play ; the old set is promoted or 
gone out into the world. But the little 
corner known still as “ Batters’s garden ” 
has its flowers duly watered from the great 
butt near which it lies. 

James, like others, has met the changes 
and trials of business-life, and tasted in his 
small way the sweetness of success and the 
bitterness of disappointment. But, in the 
main, he has been very prosperous, and, 
what is better still, he has always tried to 
be good. 


232 


CHUMBO'S HUT. 


Thinking it over, I am led to wonder to 
what we should really attribute the great 
change that took place in the “ worst boy.” 
The kindness of friends, Jenny’s prayers 
and teachings, his sight of sudden death 
and the Indian’s curious friendship, — all 
pass in review, but do not quite answer 
the question. The only true response must 
come in the words “ God’s grace and 
mercy,” and to him and his Son be all 
the glory ! 


THE END. 















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